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“Some people called him Nicholas the Wonderworker because wherever he went, miracles seemed to follow. Much, much later, he became the patron saint for sailors, merchants, children, all kinds of folks. But he really got his reputation from his secret gift-giving.”
“Yes, but he was a man,” said Alvin. “He died. Right?”
“He did die, son. But true legends, true, good-hearted men don’t die. They live on in their deeds and in their legacy. Did you know that when he was about your age, they said he rescued three young girls, saving them from a life of prostitution. Every night for three nights, he dropped a sack of gold coins at the window of their house so that their father could pay a dowry for them to marry.
“Generations of men followed in his footsteps. Father Christmas, Jule Nisse, Dun Che Lao Ren, Sinterklaas, Hotei Osho, Papai Noel, Le Befana, Joulupukki, Père Noël, and of course, Santa Claus.”
“I never knew he had so many names,” said Miller. Matthew smiled at his son, nodding. He knew. He just didn’t remember.
“Oh, he has many, many names.”
“Then, why don’t all kids get gifts, sir?” asked Alvin. “I mean, I don’t want to sound ungrateful or disrespectful, but not everyone gets a Christmas gift. I didn’t for a long time. In fact, the first real gift I ever received was when I got here.”
“I know, son,” said Matthew, nodding at the boy. He gripped his shoulders, doing what had become his trademark. He kissed his forehead. “He knew you were suffering. He also knew that if he left a gift for you, it would be taken and sold. It was not the time.”
The older men stared at one another, then back at Matthew. How could he have known that?
“When the time is right, he attempts to leave gifts for all. Traveling around the globe has become a challenge. As the population has grown, getting all those gifts to children really became impossible. So, he did what any man would do. He asked for help. He asked for help from parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and other men and women inclined to give of their time and pocket.
“Yes, sir,” smiled Matthew. “It’s the time of year when miracles seem to just float through the air. They pass by you in a way that makes you feel as though electricity has passed through your body. You get tingles and chills. A feeling unlike anything else. Your heart is warm and full, your spirit at its greatest. It is truly a miraculous time of year.”
“I want to believe you, sir,” said Josiah.
“I know you do, son,” nodded Matthew. “Well, we have time to have some more conversations. Between now and then, you help my boys help all of you. Your good deeds will be rewarded well.”
“Yes, sir,” said the boys in unison. As Matthew began to walk away, squeezing the shoulder of each of his ‘sons,’ Josiah called out to him.
“Mr. Matthew? I wish. I wish you’d been my father or grandfather.” Matthew smiled at him, nodding.
“I am, son. I am.”
CHAPTER THREE
“Man, your father is something else,” smirked Bull as the men walked toward their cabins. “I’ve never in my life met anyone like him.”
“He’s pretty incredible, isn’t he?” smiled Miller. “I don’t think any of us boys appreciated him like we should have when we were younger. He was always there. Always. Just like you saw today, him walking up out of the blue. He used to do that with us. When my first wife died, he always seemed to know when I needed his big shoulders. When I almost married the wrong one the second time around, he never let me fall. And when I almost walked away from Kari, his big hand was there to guide me.”
“He’s important to us all,” said Hannu. “Even us older men. He’s a wealth of knowledge and wisdom. He always makes time for everyone. So does Irene, but Matthew does it with quiet grace behind the scenes.”
“Do you think he’s Santa?” asked Bull. Miller looked at him, almost laughing, then sobered.
“I mean, if we think Mama is voodoo or some shit, why can’t we think Pops is Santa?” said Miller. He shook his head, zipping his jacket tighter. “I don’t know. I don’t think I want to know. I’m just damn glad I was born to them.”
“What did Grant say about the orphanage?” asked Max.
“It’s gonna need a lot of work. We’ve done a good job trying to make sure everything was up to code, clean, functional, that sort of thing, but it’s seriously shy on space,” said Teddy. “I think we should move the boys to the Sugar Lodge, find somewhere else to hide the residents’ gifts, and just start from scratch. Grant said that he could call in extra teams and have this done by Christmas.”
“Let’s do it,” nodded Nine. “I want those boys to feel as though it’s truly a home, not just a house.”
“Looks like Ryan beat us here,” smirked Angel. “Hey, man. Thanks for coming out here.”
“Happy to do it,” smiled Ryan. He hugged his father, Antoine, kissing his cheek, and smiled at the others. They rarely noticed his prosthetic arm any longer. It looked so real, you had to really pay attention to know that it wasn’t his own.
“We want to do something really special for the boys in the orphanage, as well as the kids at the school. We’re going to try and stick to old-fashioned things with a modern twist, but we’d love to create some things with technology as well.”
“Interesting,” smirked Ryan. “So, keep it old school, with a modern twist? I like that idea, although toys aren’t usually our thing.”
“Yea, I guess that describes what we want,” said Gaspar. “Do you think you can help?”
