He made his way quickly down the street, dodging his way in and around people who were doing their last minute holiday shopping, as well as maneuvering about the snowdrifts that had piled up from the first snowfall of the season on Christmas Eve day.

He was on a mission and needed to get it done before he was seen. For months he had saved his money to give his mother the best Christmas present ever, and he figured he finally had enough.

Glancing around, he made sure none of the other guys saw him. He figured they wouldn’t understand where the money came from, and would accuse him of stealing from the pot. But the money he had was obtained legally. He had done some small errands for some of the other residents in the apartment building to earn the money.

He finally made it to the store and made his way inside. He headed to the shoe department and sought out the pair he knew would be perfect for his mother. It took a few minutes, but he finally found the pair for which he was looking for. Looking carefully at the shoes, he made sure they were the right size and the color she loved.

As he looked at the shoes, he thought back to what Father Richard had said a few days earlier.

He had quietly entered the small apartment. It was late and he knew he should have been home a lot sooner, but he had been unable to get away.

Turning around, he stopped suddenly when he saw Father Richard come from the single bedroom. He had figured his mother was alone, but knew it was something serious if Father Richard was there.

The older man with graying hair led him into the small living room. They sat down on the broken couch and he looked at Father Richard expectantly.

“Son, your mother had the doctor visit her once again today.”

“Is she getting worse?” he asked quickly, hoping that wasn’t the case.

“It seems so, son,” Father Richard said. “She doesn’t have much time left. I think that this may be her last Christmas.”

He was stunned. He didn’t think it was possible. She was supposed to get better. He knew she had been sick for a while, but he always thought she’d get better.

Without a word to Father Richard, he got to his feet and made his way to the bedroom. Looking in at the single mattress on the floor where his mother was sleeping, he realized then that he would never have any breaks. First his father and now his mother. Life couldn’t get any crueler.

He had spent hours standing in the doorway watching her sleep. That was when he got the idea to get her the special gift so that he would have one last happy memory of his mother smiling, instead of being in pain.

As he made his way to the cashier, he tried to make sure he had enough money. He had grabbed all that he had to buy her the shoes. He stood in line patiently, waiting for his turn.

When it came, he set the shoes carefully on the counter and looked at the gentleman running the register.

“I’d like to buy these shoes for my momma please.”

“Let’s see how much this comes to,” the gentleman said. He rang up the shoes and looked at him. “The total is $10.43.”

Putting his hand into his pocket, he pulled out all the money he had. He set the bills on the counter and then began pulling out the change he had set aside.

The gentleman counted the change and then looked at him. “I’m sorry, son, but you don’t have enough here.”

“But I need to buy these shoes. Father says there’s not much time. She’s been sick for a while. What am I going to do?”

He looked up at the man in line behind him. “Momma made Christmas good in our house. What am I going to do? I’ve gotta buy her these shoes.”

There was a moment of silence and then man pulled out his wallet and handed over a few bills to help cover the cost.

“Thank you,” he said.

The gentleman at the register bagged up the shoes and handed them to him. He looked at both of the men. “Thank you. and have a wonderful Christmas.”

He held the bag tight and hurried home. Once home, he thanked Father Richard for staying with his mother. After Father Richard extricated a promise from him to call if he was needed, the clergyman left the apartment.

The jacket he always wore slid off his shoulders and was dropped on the couch in the living room. He quickly made his way to the bedroom.

As he gazed at his mother’s sleeping form, he couldn’t believe how things were changing. He felt angry that his life had been dealt these blows and that there was nothing he could do to stop it. He leaned against the doorframe and slid to the floor.

He wasn’t going to admit it, but he was scared. He knew that if his mother did die, he would be sent to a kids’ home. He had no one else in the world. He had had an uncle at one time, but he figured his uncle was probably dead. He had heard about the kids’ home and knew that it was a place he didn’t want to be. He knew he would make do living on the streets if he had to.

All night long he sat by the door watching his mother sleep. She looked peaceful. He could hear the soft sounds of holiday music drifting into the apartment from one of the neighbors’ apartments.

When morning finally arrived, he watched his mother let out a soft sigh and then open her eyes. She turned her head and looked at him with a smile on her face.

“Morning, Mom,” he said softly, moving over to the mattress.

“Morning,” she said. “Did you get any sleep?”

“Yeah,” he lied. “I slept on the couch.”

She reached over and took his hand in hers. “I’m sorry I didn’t make it out to get you any presents for Christmas.”

He smiled at her. “Don’t worry about it, Mom. I don’t need anything. That’s not what Christmas is about.”

“I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.” He took the bag containing the shoes and handed them to her. “I got you something.”

“You did?”

“I did. I saved my money from helping the neighbors and got these for you. Merry Christmas, Mom.”

He watched as she opened the bag and pulled out the shoes. She gently touched the shoes as she looked them over. They were blue satin.

“These are beautiful. Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome.” He leaned forward and placed a gently kiss on her pale cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

* * * * *

“Dan? Dan, are you all right?”

The twenty-four year old shook his head and focused on his uncle. He didn’t know what had happened.

“Dan, what is it?”

“It’s nothing,” Dan said quietly.

“It’s more than that,” his uncle, Bill Regan said. “Go sit down out in the mall and I’ll take care of your purchase.”

Not waiting for an answer, Regan took the item from Dan’s hand, leaving him no choice but to exit the store.

Dan did as his uncle said and went into the mall. He found an empty bench and sank down onto it.

Bags holding the previous purchases were dropped on the floor by his feet. Propping his elbows on his knees, he buried his head in his hands.

He hadn’t thought about that last Christmas with his mother in a long time. He had buried it away so he wouldn’t be haunted by those painful memories, but he didn’t know what had brought those particular memories to the forefront.

“That kid ahead of you in line was mighty cute,” Regan said as he settled down on the bench beside Dan.

Dan lifted his head and looked at his uncle. “How so?”

“Didn’t you hear him as you came out here?” Regan asked. “He was buying a gift for his mother and didn’t have enough money. He was looking around desperately. I just couldn’t say no to that cute face, so I helped him out.”

“He was probably very appreciative,” Dan said quietly.

“He was. He thanked me several times before left the store.”

“That was nice of you.” Dan focused on the floor.

There was a moment of silence and then Dan felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Dan, tell me what happened. You spaced out suddenly and that’s not like you. Talk to me.”

He remained quiet for a moment. He could usually talk to his uncle, but he didn’t think he could talk about that Christmas. It was one of the saddest Christmases he could remember and wasn’t too sure how his uncle would take it. Christmas was supposed to be a happy time, not a sad one.

Just as Dan was about to respond, a song came over the speakers in the mall. The song was “The Christmas Shoes,” by Bob Carlisle. As it played, the image of his last Christmas with his mother came back again. Now he knew the trigger: it was the song.

The song had started while they were in line to pay for the gift, and the little boy had added to the memory.

“Dan?”

“We need to get out of here,” Dan said, grabbing his bags as he got to his feet.

“We were done anyway,” Regan said, following suit.

They left the mall and headed for the parking lot where Dan had parked the car. They got in, with Dan behind the wheel. Just as he was about to put the key in the ignition, Regan put his hand on Dan’s to stop him.

Dan looked at his uncle and saw the concern in his eyes. Regan said gently, “We’re not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on.” He paused. “I can see the look in your eyes that I saw when we first met. I didn’t let you run off then, and I’m certainly not going to let you run off now.”

Dan stared at the steering wheel. He didn’t want to burden his uncle with this memory, but he also knew that his uncle wouldn’t back down.

Taking a deep breath, he turned to his uncle. “Are you sure you want to know?”

“I’m sure.”

Dan took another deep breath. “When the song began playing, it reminded me of the last Christmas I had with Mom.” He turned and stared out the windshield. “She was real sick and the doctors believed it would be her last Christmas. I had saved all the money I had earned legally, to buy her a special pair of shoes. When I went to pay for them, I didn’t have enough money. A gentleman in line behind me paid the balance so I was able to get the shoes for Mom. She loved those shoes.”

“And so hearing the song that was so close to your own experience made you remember a time that you had purposely locked away,” Regan concluded quietly.

Dan nodded. “I sat by her side all Christmas Eve into Christmas morning. I didn’t care that there weren’t any gifts for me. I just wanted Mom to be happy.”

“And she was,” Regan said. “Your mother was a wonderful woman.”

“I just wish she had lived longer.”

“I wish that too,” Regan said. “But that’s one wish we both know won’t come true.”

“I know, but it’s a dream I keep having,” Dan admitted.

“Keep dreaming, Dan. One day you and I will be reunited with her.”

“Yeah.”

Silence settled in the car. Dan had an idea, but he wasn’t sure his uncle would agree. He hadn’t been there in a long time, and a visit was long overdue.

“Uncle Bill, would you mind if we stopped at the cemetery?”

“I think that would be fine.”

Dan started the engine and headed for the cemetery. It was time.

Forty-five minutes later, he drove the car through the gates of the cemetery and headed in the direction where he knew his parents had been buried. Even after all these years, he could find it easily. He stopped the car on the road and shut off the engine.

Dan and Regan climbed out of the car and trudged through the ankle-deep snow to the headstone. The snow only went up about six inches on the headstone, making the names on the marker still visible.

They crouched down in front of the headstone. Dan reached forward and touched the letters of his father’s name, Timothy Daniel Mangan, and then his mother’s, Elizabeth Amelia Regan Mangan.

The last time he had been here was when his mother had been buried. He had attended the burial, but not in the way anyone expected. He had hidden himself away in the trees as his mother’s few friends paid their last respects. There had been a few people he didn’t recognize in attendance, and he figured they were from the children’s home, waiting for him to show so they could cart him off to the facility.

He had watched Father Richard speak to those gathered, and minutes later the service was over. Several people left flowers on her casket before leaving the cemetery.

Dan had stayed hidden as he watched the workers lower the casket into the ground and cover it with dirt. When they had left, he had finally gone to the grave. He had been unable to believe he was alone in the world.

“Your mother was a wonderful woman,” Regan said, bringing Dan back to the present.

“She was, and she was so happy with Dad. After he died, she didn’t seem as happy.”

“She’s probably happy now, because they are together again.”

“You’re right.” Dan looked at Regan. “But she is also happy because we found one another.”

“You’re probably right.” Regan reached up and ran his fingers across the inscription of Elizabeth’s name. “I wish I had been able to find her after I left the orphanage. If I had, neither of us would have gone through what we did.”

“We can’t change the past,” Dan said quietly. “We can only take what we’ve been through and make certain that we never have to go through it again and neither does anyone we care about.”

“You’re right.”

Dan tore his gaze away from the headstone and looked at his uncle. “Uncle Bill, I may not have said this, but thank you for taking me to Sleepyside and giving me a chance for a better future. If you hadn’t agreed, I would probably be in jail now.”

“There’s no thanks necessary,” Regan said. “We’re family. I’m just grateful we’re not alone in this world. We may be all each other has in blood lines, but we have a huge family back in Sleepyside.”

“We sure do,” Dan said. “I’m glad we came here.”

“So am I,” Regan said. “I think we need to come more often.”

“I like that idea.”

“Then we’ll do it.” Regan put a hand on Dan’s shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get going. We have family waiting for us in Sleepyside.”

“All right.”

They got to their feet and Dan gazed down at the headstone. He thought, We’ll be back again, Mom and Dad. And I can promise that it won’t be as long as this time.

As they headed for the car, Dan felt a gentle breeze cross his cheek. He stopped and turned back to the headstone. He felt it had been the right time to come there. He would always miss his parents, but he knew he was fortunate because he not only had his uncle in his life, but also a lot of friends that meant the world to him.

The End

Author’s Notes: Once again I need to thank Amy and Kaye for their wonderful editing and suggestions to make this story the best. Yes, I know I broke from the tradition of writing a Jim and Trixie story, but when I heard Bob Carlisle’s “Christmas Shoes”, I knew that this song could only work for just one Bob-Whites. I hope everyone has a wonderful holiday season and a great New Year. Happy Holidays everyone!!!

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