Presents
A light snow fell outside, enough to dust the lawns, to frost the windows, to bless the rooftops with a gentle nightcap for the perfect winter's nap. Barton sat contentedly by the fireside, a cup of hot chai and a few ginger snap cookies (both of Lyal's making) at his elbow. He looked around the living room, taking in the beautifully-decorated tree - the first since Wallace's departure - with a small fortune in presents underneath it, and the electric candles in the windows, and the three carefully-hung stockings over the fireplace. It was the first year in some time that he'd felt like decorating, felt like being something other than Scrooge or the Grinch at Christmastime, and it was a feeling he'd cherished as deeply as he did his sweet rabbit twins.
So much had happened over the past five or six weeks. Here on the eve of a week's time off from the shop, past the hustle and bustle of the season, and with the kits saying their hellos and well-wishes to their new friends around the world (courtesy of various Internet connections on their new laptops - a perfectly reasonable expense for schooling to begin in January), the honey badger gave himself the moment to reflect and, in a proper Dickensian sense, be grateful for all that had transpired.
As they had all known it would be, the deposition was the most difficult part. Lyal held his sister as she went through all the horrifying details of her treatment at the paws of Damian Holyfield Redclaw. Lady Jayna was close by, silently encouraging, and both Firecat and Strypes lent their strength to both of the kits. Most surprising of all, however, was Lance. The lawyer did his job well enough (Strypes assisted there too), but his voice was low and as gentle as possible, and right there in front of them all, he actually shed a few tears. Barton wondered if that had helped Lyris get through her tale so well. When it was all done, she padded over to him and asked quietly if she could hug him. The embrace lasted for a few minutes, with whispered words that all tried their best not to overhear. The emotions were obvious, however, and after the hug stopped, Lyal had his own turn with the lawyer.
In those few weeks before Thanksgiving, things seemed to move both quickly and slowly. Lance returned to Arizona and unleashed what may have been the equivalent of the first nuclear explosion that the southwestern deserts had seen in over half a century. The Internet resources were aflame with news, gossip, scandal, speculation... the usual, in other words. Lance provided the factual details, but the short form was the wholly-expected circling of wagons, non-denial denials, false moral outrage, and other explosions of verbal posturing that fooled no one but put plenty of money into the defense counsel's pocket. Equally expected were postponements, delays, adjournments, extensions, and legal maneuvering to do anything but show up in a courtroom. Civil and criminal charges flew fast and furious, throwing the Redclaws' entire clan and pack into what could only be called a massive, blood-curdling dog fight.
With both Lance and Strypes translating the legalese into something closer to English, Barton and the twins learned that that the reason for the depositions' impact was that it made both the criminal and civil cases stronger, each fueling the other. Despite Sixth Amendment rights to confront and cross-examine the witnesses, the simple truth was that the Redclaws clan didn't want the publicity, much less the financially liability and/or jail time; there was too much evidence, physical and testamentary, for them to do more than hope to discredit all of the witnesses, and a pair of abused kits repeating their testimony on the stand would sway a jury almost instantaneously. Even so, the wolves weren't ready to capitulate just yet. Lance's advice was to filter Internet connections against the gossip and false reports and just let the situation burn itself down into a manageable size. Strypes agreed to be the kits' local counsel; when their location leaked (no doubt due to opposing counsel's careful manipulations), the lawyer fielded questions, keeping the actual location of the twins quiet, even dropping hints that they weren't even in town any longer. Since Barton was not party to any aspect of either sets of proceedings, neither side could involve him directly (or even indirectly) without incurring yet more liability and vulnerability. That being the case, the kits had merely to keep a relatively low profile for a time, while various news stringers were (guided by Strypes' own brand of dirty tricks) scattered all over three states in pursuit of rumors of rabbit sightings.
Malik was invited to the house, sworn to secrecy, and introduced to the kits, who became his new best friends. Already in the college grind, the young meerkat had plenty of tales to tell of both the light and dark side of college life. For the most part, he was quite positive about it, and more than that, he was delighted to help tutor the kits as much as they wanted in preparation for their GED. More than once, he commented on how bright they both were, and one occasion he let slip how nice Lyris looked, as her health and diet had improved sufficiently to let her figure return to its fuller blossom. He seemed to blush from tip to tail, although the doe took it in stride, and both Lyal and Barton didn't seem to mind at all.
Thanksgiving rolled around with an invitation to join the whole BACA crew in a giant potluck for any and all who wished to attend. The bikers provided the venue and no fewer than six Cajun-style deep-fried turkeys. Lyal performed magic in the kitchen with sweet potatoes - something Barton had never really cared for until he sampled these. Plenty was available for herbivores, carnivores, and omnivores alike. The crowd included child and adult survivors, parents and friends, lawyers and cops (Barton had invited Truman and his partner Gregory McHenery, an Irish setter with a brogue as fine as his own). Dishes ranged from meats to vegetables, from pies and cakes to cookies and candies, and all diets were checked at the door and told sternly not to interfere with the festivities. The rule was first names or monikers only, and if anyone recognized anyone else, mum's the word. Strangers became friends, at least for a day if not longer, and "a good time was had by all" was an understatement worthy of a mention in Guinness.
The day after Thanksgiving (perhaps ironically), Lance telephoned with the news that the Redclaws had elected to respect the nunc pro tunc brief that the rabbit had filed a few years ago - not that they would have had much choice, had that specific matter actually gone before a judge. The wagon-circling had proven just how scared they were running. The best news about this, however, was that Lance's claim was recognized by the court, and he'd had papers already prepared to appoint Barton as in loco parentis, which bypassed the lengthy process of adoption but gave the badger as much legal rights as necessary to see to the kits' needs and welfare until their majority next October. Sent as PDF files and printed out that same Friday, Strypes acted as local legal counsel, Firecat as notary, and after Barton signed everything, he quoted from one of his favorite films: "I feel like I've just gotten a great break on a used car!" He received a twin-induced Gibbs-slap for that, laughing all the while.
The twins no longer needed to hide, although they were occasionally hounded by reporters. This stopped shortly after the members of the fourth estate realized that the rabbits were so often escorted by a few BACA members whose silent presence nonetheless amplified the words "No comment" quite expertly. No injuries were reported, apart from one attempt by a reporter to get too close to Lyris. He found himself doubled over on the ground in abject pain. Lyris' response was merely, "I enjoy playing pool." Lyal added, "And she knows how to rack." Reporters were singularly more respectful afterward. The quotes hit the Internet and went viral.
Barton's own physician saw the kits first, and recommended another to see them regularly. Barton's bandaging had helped Lyal's ribs considerably, and the doctor recommended some further therapy that would have the buck doing pawsprings across the floor in a month or less. Both kits received some help with supplements, and Barton took it upon himself to make sure that they had a physical therapist to help them regain their muscle tone. Both Lyal and Lyris were tested for all the possible infections that they might have been exposed to, including such comparatively innocuous ones as mononucleosis and various types of flu. Both kits came out negative on the full panel. That was the evening that Lyris relaxed in her bedroom, reading, pretending that she didn't hear the various moans, assorted cries, miscellaneous grunts, and methodical bed squeaks that signaled the full and proper celebration of those results between Lyal and Barton. She hadn't minded. That night, they all slept together as usual, and she and her twin had their own celebrations while Barton was at the shop. Lyal wisely refrained from describing either as better than the other.
The rabbits made their more acceptable debut at the spa during the first full week of the month. Both looked and felt much better than they had the first time around, and the staff and customers were happy to meet them, especially after all the publicity. No salon can exist without a good contingency of gossipers, and for once they were able to get the information right from the source. Of the various employees, Una was the only one who didn't seem to welcome them. The black cat being who she was, however, only ended up making it clear that her kvetching was just as it always was - a peculiarly endearing form of backward affection - and the twins soon learned how to give as good as they got.
Before the shop closed for the week, several of the regular patrons had come by with gift cards for the kits for everything from Barnes & Noble to Amazon, as was well as food, clothing, and various knickknacks as tokens of friendship and welcome. The industrious Mrs. Alison Hornsby-Stuart showed that she knew her way around knitting needles enough to create a pair of beautiful scarves, identical in pattern, one in shades of soft cerulean blue and the other in shades of deep rose. "I know," she declared, "blue and pink are clichés for male and female kits, but I couldn't think what else they might like." The twins donned them on the spot and made a great fuss over the lady and her gifts, not a bit of it insincere; the scarves were not only beautiful, but amazingly warm, and the rabbits were far from the deserts of Arizona now and would need them as winter settled in for its season.
Those few weeks before Christmas passed quickly, with nothing but good news on all fronts. There were indications that Redclaw and his mate had fled the country, fearing criminal prosecution. Because of the threats to both the literal and financial bloodlines of the pack, entire fortunes, companies, families and individuals were in chaos at every level. Barton was not generally one to engage in schadenfreude, but he had to admit to a certain amount of pleasure in the idea. It's not often that karma acted so swiftly.
The badger butler, Frederick, had made contact and, with a little financial help, would be flying in tomorrow, Christmas Day, to see his much-loved young charges yet again. The reward for finding the kits was, at Barton's request, put in trust, and he and Lance administered it together. The kits' request to have Frederick visit was considered a "reasonable and necessary" expense without the slightest argument from either adult. It was almost a moot point anyway, in terms of how it would affect the twins' financial future. Lance had spent a little more time taking Barton's measure before finally revealing that the Ruthschild estate - which he had kept intact and administered with consummate care - was of a figure that boggled the badger's brain from the sheer quantity of zeros to the left of the decimal. It was not an exaggeration to say that, had they any such desire, the kits could probably have bought out the Redclaws' companies three times over. As it was, they were set to take on anything in the world that they wanted to do. Their Christmas list wasn't made of requests for gifts, but instead made of organizations they wished to donate to. BACA International led the pack.
Barton breathed slowly, sighing with great contentment. "Quite a loverly Christmas, m' love," he said softly to the mostly empty room. "Hopin' ye c'n share it wi' us. Ye'd've loved these cookies."
The kit can cook, the badger felt more than heard Wallace's response. Be careful you don't blow up like a Macy's float!
"None o' that now!" he chuckled, still murmuring. "He'll make sure I get m' veggies!"
I promise not to make any jokes about rabbit sausage.
"Yer wicked still, en't ye?"
I promised I'd always help you remember how to smile. And I meant always.
"Aye... aye, ye did..."
You managed a hat trick, Barton.
The comment seemed to come from some unknown part of his mind - or perhaps the magical air of the softly-lit Christmas Eve room. "Ye mean, pullin' rabbits out o' a hat?"
No... making three goals in a row. Three goals ... rescue, emancipation, and love. Not bad for old players like us.
"Fair enough," he said. "Fair enough."
A gentle throat clearing drew the badger's attention to the entry to the living room. Lyal, togged in soft fleece warm-ups, looked at him shyly. "May I?" he asked.
Barton waved him over with a gentle smile, and the kit sat in his lap like a child with Santa. There the comparison ended, as the kiss they shared wasn't one for just any random St. Nicholas out there. When the buck pulled back, he smiled, looking at the badger tenderly. "Did I catch you talking to Wallace again?"
"Ghost o' Christmas Past," Barton said with a very slightly sad smile.
Lyal shook his head. "He's still with you. Sometimes, I can almost see him."
"That bother ye, lad?"
"No. I owe him everything." He kissed his lover on the cheek, then looked around the room as if hoping to see a ghost. "Wallace, you helped him to help us. You gave him to us like a gift, one we'll always treasure. I'll make sure you're always with us. And I promise to take good care of him."
"Both of us promise," said a soft voice from the hall.
Lyris padded up to the chair, leaned over to embrace and kiss both her brother and her "loco parent," as they teasingly called him. Lyal made space for her in Barton's lap, and the badger hugged his family close to him. "Sure an' ye know how t' make us soppy, sentimental Irish furs start up th' waterworks," he chuckled. "Thank ye both. Wallace'd be proud t' be here."
The buck glanced down to see an empty plate next to an empty mug. "I see you liked the cookies," he grinned.
"What's not t' like? Oh, and we'd best leave a few out fer Santa."
Chuckling softly, Lyal said, "If you want more, just ask!"
"What's this, then? Ye not be leavin' a few cookies for Santa? He'll be most disappointed."
"We're not little kits anymore, Barton." Lyris managed to look both young and sophisticated in the same moment. "We know about Santa."
"Then ye know we should be leavin' a coupla cookies." He patted their sides gently. "C'mon, you two, help yer old loco get us ready fer bed."
The twins looked at each other, so much as to say, What can you expect from an old guy? With patient indulgence, they set out several more cookies, but they were surprised when Barton suggested that they put them into a zippered plastic bag and set them on the table near the fireplace before turning off all the lights, save for the tree lights.
"Ye dinna think he'd eat 'em all at once? With all th' cookies from all th' kits in the world t' get through? Nae, he'll have some an' take th' rest back fer himself an' his lady wife an' th' elves an' all." The badger raised an eyebrow at them. "Ye dinna believe me, eh? Ri' then, ye doubters ... I'll get some proof. Cam ye on here."
In the master bedroom, Barton closed the door behind them and then moved a chair up against it. "God forbid summat should happen, but remember th' windows. We can still get out this way if'n needed, but th' point is none of us c'n get out wi'out some noise. So we're all three in here f'r th' night. That's so's ye know I'm nae sneakin' out to fit up stockin's w' goodies, right? Now let's gie off t' sleep, or Santa won't drop by."
Clearly, the twins knew something secret was up; the badger was having way too much fun. Even so, they both grinned wide as they climbed into their accustomed places to sleep warm through the night. All three found themselves whispering and giggling like young kits with the excitement of wondering if, just maybe, the grand old elf of winter really was out there somewhere, bringing gifts and goodies to all the yowens around the world.
All at once, Lyris stiffened, her huge gray ears suddenly alert and pivoting. "Did you hear..."
"...sleigh bells...?" Lyal finished for her, his eyes wide in the quiet darkness.
"Shhh," Barton whispered. "Don' let 'im think yer still up. Just lie quiet now, and we'll wait fer mornin'..."
He wrapped his arms around the rabbits, holding them close, and wondering what Santa might be bringing him too...
* * * * * * * * * *
In the darkened living room, large and skillful paws carefully filled three stockings with Clementines, plums, nuts, candy, peppermint sticks, tins of mints, Terry's dark chocolate oranges, little toys and amusements, and in each a touch of technology - a gift card appropriate to each taste. The peridot eyes looked upon the work and called it good, and a smile crossed the tawny muzzle. He took the plastic bag of cookies, replacing them with a "thank you" card from Santa and his elves. His maw watered slightly as he anticipated finally getting to have a few more of the treats that he'd sampled recently. That young buck sure knew how to cook.
Padding without a sound out of the living room on very large cat paws, Santa let himself out of the house through the utility room that led out to the garage, being sure to lock up with the key he had for the place. The night was cold, and his leather coat was waiting for him there in the garage. The great lion donned the creaky apparel, shook out his thick flame-hued mane, and stepped out the side door. He saw the police prowl car at the curb, grinned and waved; the young otter grinned back and gave him a thumbs-up before continuing slowly down the road in electric silence.
As he moved out into the light snow, trusting it to cover his tracks, Firecat made his way to the electric-powered van down the block where his lady wife sat waiting, preparing other gifts. He had a few more houses to visit tonight - not as many as the real Santa, perhaps, but he was glad to help out. Hindpaws confident in the light blanket of snow, he carefully jingled the sleigh bells in his forepaw, to make sure that the true winter magic would work...