The Legend of Holly Claus

  “I got a dog too,” said Jeremy, looking backward. “You’ll see him at the Place. He ain’t as big as yours, though. That one looks like a wolf.”

  Tundra choked, and Holly quickly began asking questions. She learned that Jeremy was eleven and Bat was thought to be about four. “Don’t know for sure,” said Jeremy. “Just came wandering along one day when he was a little tyke. Couldn’t barely talk or nothing. But we took care of him.”

  “He said he has no mother or father,” said Holly hesitantly.

  “Yeah. Probably not.” Do your

  There was a pause. “I got ’em,” said Jeremy grimly. “If they ain’t dead yet.”

  “You don’t know—where they are?” Holly asked. She did not want to hurt him with her questions.

  “No. But I can bet you that wherever they are, they’re drunk.”

  “Drunk?” asked Holly.

  Jeremy grinned. “You really are from another country, ain’t you?” They turned a corner, and, in a tiny clearing screened by rocks and thick bushes, Holly saw a ragged group of children huddled around the embers of a very small fire. There were perhaps fifteen or twenty, ranging from two Bat’s age to several boys whom Holly took to be older than Jeremy. Though the majority were boys, Holly saw a good number of girls, too, dressed in layers of pinafores and dresses, their thin legs wrapped in rags. The children all stared intently at the fire, as though their watching could keep it from dying, and Holly, looking at their thin cheeks, thought she had never seen such wretched faces. One girl, who was supported by another, began to cough a thick, painful cough. After the attack was over, she lay down on a thin blanket next to the brightest part of the fire and closed her eyes.

  Bat ran to the little cluster. “Jemmy’s here!”

  All of the children looked up quickly. The smallest children began to smile. They called out, “Hi there, Jeremy!” “What’s the news!” “Got any food?” A small, rascally looking white dog appeared from behind a clump of bushes, wagging his tail wildly.

  Jeremy strode energetically toward the group. “Why so glum?” he demanded. “Hungry?” He began pulling knobby packages from his pockets and distributing bread around the little band. “Marty! Thought I told you to get some more wood.” He tossed a stump of bread into the air, and the little dog caught it efficiently.

  “I went a-looking,” sniffed a big boy with black hair sticking out in tufts under his worn cap. “But there was cops everywhere.”

  “Well, go on, get some now. I didn’t see any of ’em and I just come through the Mall.” Reluctantly the boy rose and ambled off. “Hiya, Sidewalk,” Jeremy said to the dog, who was now clamoring around his knees in a frenzy of welcome. “This here’s my dog I told you about,” he said to Holly proudly. “His name’s Sidewalk ’cause I found him on one and ’cause he walks sideways.”

  Holly noticed that the little dog circling around Jeremy did have a peculiar sideways gait, like a circus horse. It was a cheering sight. “I’ve never seen a dog do that,” she said and, forgetting that she was in mortal territory, dropped to her knees. “Why do you walk sideways?” she asked the dog curiously.

  Assuming the question was directed to him, Jeremy said, “Aw, I guess he got his leg broke when he was little and that’s how he learned to walk with it. Come on, now, Sidewalk, leave the lady alone.” The dog, recognizing Holly’s sympathetic heart, if not her words, licked her cheek enthusiastically.

  Holly saw a ragged group of children huddled around the embers of a very small fire.

  “It’s all right,” she said, rising. She glanced at Tundra and noticed with amusement the scandalized look on his face.

  Jeremy’s attention had shifted. He approached the sleeping girl and put his hand on her cheek. He whistled. “She’s burning hot.”

  “Least someone is,” said a shivering girl.

  “Wake up now, Lissy. I brought you some chocolate,” said Jeremy softly to the little figure on the ground. “I got a blanket, too.”

  The girl opened her eyes. “Chocolate?” she murmured. “For real?”

  “ ’Course for real. Come on, sit up.” Jeremy lifted her up and gave her a small packet, which she eagerly opened to reveal a smooth, dark square of chocolate.

  “Ohhh,” said all the other children, their eyes fixed upon the morsel.

  “That’s for Lissy, now,” said Jeremy sternly, and the others nodded.

  “Who’s the lady?” said a ragamuffin of unknown gender, looking at Holly.

  Jeremy glanced up. “That’s Holly,” he said. “She wanted to see our Place.” He rose to his feet and approached her. “What do you think? See, we sleep in there, except in the summer.” He pointed proudly to a small shack constructed of thin wood gleaned from boxes and covered with a few flapping cloths. “See, we got hay to keep us warm.” He paused, clearly waiting for her to admire his home.

  But Holly was quiet. Her eyes moved from Lissy, who was licking the last bits of chocolate from her fingers, to Bat, who was shoving one of his pals off a log by the fireside so he could take his place. What kind of a world was this, where children lived in the cold, cared for one another, and stared at food with hungry eyes? Was this part of mortal life? How could it be? How could Earth have been arranged so that children were cold and hungry? For the briefest moment, she wished she were back in the Land of the Immortals, hidden away among the silver trees. But no, she thought in a flash of comprehension, for that is exactly how these children came to be here, by people hiding from the sight of their hunger and hopelessness. “No,” she blurted out involuntarily. Jeremy looked at her curiously.

  “No what?” he asked.

  Holly collected herself. I must do something, she thought. I must help them if I can. She turned to Jeremy with a smile. “You’ve managed beautifully, Jeremy,” she said. “And I can see that you take good care of the children.”

  “Yeah,” said Jeremy roughly, trying to hide his pride, “we do all right here.” His eyes darkened. “Except Lissy. She’s not doing too good.”

  “Is there a doctor—” began Holly tentatively, but she was interrupted by Jeremy’s bitter laugh.

  “Tried to take her, didn’t I? I had money, too, but they wouldn’t let us in.” His voice rose in an indignant imitation, “ ‘Get out of here, you vermin!’ That’s what she said to me and Lissy. I wanted to—to smash the place, but I didn’t, did I, ’cause it wouldn’t do her no good anyhow.” His fists clenched. “So I got her some warm food instead. Helped her more than a doctor, probably.”

  “Jeremy,” said Holly urgently, “are they hungry right now?”

  He looked at her. “ ’Course they’re hungry. They’re almost always hungry.”

  “Let’s go get food for them,” begged Holly.

  “With what for money? I ain’t worked in a couple days.”

  “Money?” Holly was near to tears. “You need money to get food?”

  “Lord,” said Jeremy, looking at her in awe. “Where in the world do you come from?”

  “I come from a place called Forever, the Land of the Immortals. There is no money there,” said Holly with dignity. Beside her, Tundra rustled uneasily.

  “Sheesh. How can I get there?” asked Jeremy.

  “You can’t. At the moment I can’t either. My father will come for me on Christmas Day and I will return with him. But Jeremy, I need to know—”

  “Your dad’s coming on Christmas Day?” interrupted the boy.

  “Yes, but Jeremy—”

  “How’s he gonna get here? All the rails are closed because of the snow.”

  “He’ll come by sleigh. But Jeremy!”

  “What?”

  “Where can I get some money? I want to buy some food.”

  The boy sighed at her innocence. “You can’t just get it. You got to get a job. You got to work for it. Or you got to sell something. I guess that’s another way to get money, but I never had nothing anyone wanted to buy.”

  “What do people want to buy?” demanded Holly. r />
  “Oh, you know, houses,” Jeremy said airily. Holly’s face fell. “And smaller stuff,” he added, “like jewelry and clothes and fancy things.”

  “Jewelry?” cried Holly. “Look! I’ve got a bracelet!” She held out a slim wrist, where a golden bangle glistened. “Can we sell it and buy some food for the children?”

  “But what about you? If you spend it all on us kids, you ain’t going to have nothing to eat.”

  “Then I’ll get a job,” said Holly. “Come on, let’s go sell this and buy some food.”

  Jeremy laughed at her impatience. “Well, first you have to go to a jewelry store and then they have to write you an order for the bank and then you have to go there for the money, and after all that you can go to the store to buy food.”

  “But that will take too long!” cried Holly. “What can I do now?”

  Jeremy stared at the snowy ground, thinking. When he looked up, his eyes were shining. “I know. I know what.”

  Half an hour later, the thing was accomplished. Jeremy led Holly, trailing Tundra, to a little pavilion where a bearded man named Henry McElhenny was serving sizzling sausages on toasted bread. His equally rosy wife poured generous cups of tea and cocoa at his side. Jeremy, an old friend of McElhenny’s, opened negotiations with the confidence of a natural salesman, and within several minutes the deal was struck. In exchange for Holly’s golden bracelet, McElhenny would feed all the hungry children who approached his stand until Christmas Day. Hands were clasped all around, and Holly, who realized that she was faint with hunger, asked if she might be the first customer. She was served two sausages with a flourish, and she and Jeremy settled down to the task of consuming their sandwiches immediately. Try as she might, Holly’s tendency to wipe her mouth with her napkin slowed her down, and Jeremy finished long before she did. As he licked the last savory drops from his fingers, Holly suggested that he take the opportunity to tell the other children of their sausage windfall, and the next moment he was dashing back across the park.

  Holly watched him go, waving to passing acquaintances as he ran.

  “He’s a fine boy,” said a voice at her side. She looked up to see McElhenny standing by her.

  “Yes,” she agreed warmly. “He has a great spirit.”

  “They call him the King of the Park,” McElhenny said, his eyes on the retreating figure. “He knows every nook and cranny of it and every child who comes here.”

  “I hope—” Holly began, but did not know how to continue.

  “Yes,” said McElhenny. “So do I. I hope that life does not break him. He sees too much misery.”

  “Woof,” said Tundra flatly.

  Forgetting herself, Holly asked, “What did you say?”

  “Woof,” he repeated, more pressingly. She bent down to look at him. He crossed his eyes ever so slightly.

  “I think your dog is hungry,” said McElhenny.

  “Woof,” Tundra said, nodding emphatically.

  “Look at that!” crowed McElhenny. “Anyone would think he understood what I said! Good dog!”

  Holly got Tundra a sausage, which he gobbled down at once. She was just getting him a second when Jeremy returned with a horde of children. The rumor had flown through the park: there were sausages to be had at McElhennys—free for the asking. “Hi! Jeremy! Is it true?!” shouted a pair of twins, emerging from a nearby field.

  “Yeah, it’s true. Come and get it!” Jeremy called. “Present from my friend Miss Holly here!”

  Urchins straggled out of the bushes and scampered up from the lake, greeting Jeremy with waves and hollers. He in turn brought each child before Holly with the whispered information, “She’s the one that done it. Gave up her own gold bracelet. Say thank you. Go on, say it!” until Holly begged him to stop.

  Soon McElhenny s pavilion was filled to bursting with children chewing sausages. Holly had the pleasure of seeing Lissy eat two, her eyes screwed up tight as the warm food filled her empty stomach. Bat was spilling cocoa ecstatically down his shirt as he lapped at it with his small pink tongue like a cat.

  Suddenly an unpleasant voice cut across the din of chattering children. “Good God! It’s turned into a pesthouse! Disgusting. We shall not be lunching here, Louise.”

  Holly saw an elderly man, warmly wrapped in a fur-lined coat, staring at the children with an expression of revulsion. By his side stood a girl of about ten—his granddaughter, Holly presumed—looking at the scene with envy.

  “Step away, Louise,” snapped the man. “Don’t allow them to soil you.”

  The girl, flushing with embarrassment at her grandfather’s words, turned to go, but Jeremy, eyes flashing, called out, “We ain’t pigs, mister!”

  Startled, the silver-haired man stopped in his tracks. “How dare you address me, you young tramp!” he bellowed.

  The girl put her hand on his sleeve. “Come, Grandfather,” she said, her face flushing still more as all eyes turned upon her.

  “Leave go of me, Louise. Sir, I demand to know what you are about, harboring ruffians,” shouted the old man toward McElhenny.

  “I see no ruffians here,” returned McElhenny calmly, “unless I take you into account, Mr. Sterling.”

  The old man gasped and drew himself up to his full height. “You will regret that, McElhenny,” he said with icy dignity, and swept away.

  Louise looked desperately from her retreating grandfather to the children who regarded her solemnly. “I’m sor-ry,” she stuttered. “My grandfather shouldn’t have said what he did—”

  “Louise!” came the call.

  “I’m sorry,” the girl repeated, looking at Jeremy. He nodded, and she smiled gratefully and ran to catch up with her grandfather.

  “It’s better than the poorhouse,” Jeremy was saying some time later. “They keep you shut up there until you think you’re losing your mind. Preaching and preaching at you, day and night.”

  The pavilion was empty now, except for Mr. McElhenny and his wife, who chopped and mixed in the kitchen. The children, warmed through and well fed for the first time in many weeks, were actually playing. They had begun by slipping and sliding down the little hills nearby, but then Bat, perched on the top of a rock, had caught sight of the miraculous rainbow carousel below. Lodged now inside a gazebo of ice, the deer pranced and capered. Bat stared. He rubbed his eyes. And then, with a whoop, he scrambled down from his precipice. “You ain’t gonna believe it!” he hollered to Joan and Chick, who were rolling down a nearby hill. “Come on! You ain’t gonna believe it!” In seconds the carousel was swarming with children. Each deer carried two or three wiggling riders, and when they began to turn in the glistening gyre, the frosty air was filled with shrieks of rapture. Oddly, the bundled grown-ups who scuttled along the nearby paths took no notice of the carousel and its delighted freight.

  Back in the quiet pavilion, Tundra snoozed next to Holly’s chair, and Holly, her head propped upon her hand, listened to Jeremy’s tale with sympathy.

  “So you came here.”

  “Yeah. Came in the summer, when I was near on eight. No nicer place I ever been than the park on a summer night. All the folks with houses lie sweltering and tossing, but out here in the cool air—why, we’re the comfortablest people in New York City!”

  “But Jeremy, you can’t live here always,” said Holly.

  “Dunno why not,” replied Jeremy.

  “Don’t you want a home someday?” asked Holly.

  For a moment the boy kept his look of stubborn denial. Holly bent her head to see into his eyes, and something seemed to melt in his face. “Well, yeah, I’d like to have a home,” he admitted. “Who wouldn’t, I guess. But it ain’t going to happen, so’s there’s no sense thinking on it.”

  “Why ain’t it—isn’t it—going to happen?” asked Holly.

  Jeremy resumed his stubborn look. “It just ain’t. I’ve got no schooling, no money, no nothing. If I’m lucky, I’ll get to be a hodman or rail layer or something like that, and maybe I’ll have a little room
to myself somewhere, but that’s all. That’s all.”

  Holly kept her eyes on his. “What would you be if you could choose anything?”

  Jeremy ran his fingers over the table between them. “I guess,” he said after a moment, “I guess I’d be a doctor, wouldn’t I? So’s I could cure kids like Lissy.” He spread his palms flat. “But it ain’t going to happen,” he said harshly. “So I can just forget about it.”

  Holly said nothing. I won’t forget about it, she promised silently.

  Jeremy looked at her with curiosity. “I never met anyone like you. You look like a fine young lady, but you don’t act like one.”

  “Well, thank you very much. What do I act like?”

  “Like no one I ever met. You act like you care about me and the other kids.”

  “I do,” said Holly simply.

  They smiled at each other. “We got to find you a job,” Jeremy said suddenly. “You can’t sleep in the park.”

  “No,” said Holly with a trace of regret. “I don’t suppose I can.”

  “What’s your name, anyway. Your whole name.”

  “Holly Claus.”

  “What—like Santa Claus?” said Jeremy incredulously.

  “Just exactly like Santa Claus. He’s my father.”

  Jeremy laughed. “That’s a good one. You said it so serious, too.”

  “I’m perfectly serious,” said Holly.

  “Yeah, right,” said Jeremy comfortably. “I’m not so much of a kid that I believe in Santa Claus.”

  Now it was Holly’s turn to stare. “You don’t believe in Santa Claus? I’ve heard of such people, but I never thought I’d meet one.”

  Jeremy sat up, unsettled by her obvious surprise. “Come on now, no joking. Is your name really Claus?”

  “Why would I joke? My name is Holly Claus. I am Santa Claus’s daughter. I come from a world of immortals, and my father is their king.”

  “So now you’re a princess?” said Jeremy warily.

  “Silly. I’ve been a princess this whole time. It’s not very important.”

  Jeremy folded his arms. “Prove it.”

  “I can’t prove it. What does it matter who I actually am? I’m here now, and I’m your friend.”