Nicholas Carson’s wildest dream came true on the day his wife’s doctor told him her time was now measured in days instead of years. The cancer had spread into her lungs and her body was no longer responding to the chemo. The most anyone could do for her, the doctor said, was to make her comfortable as her clock wound down. She may last until Christmas, he said, but short of a miracle, she would never live to see the New Year.

Julia was asleep when Nicholas learned how much her condition had deteriorated. He would talk to her when she woke up. He actually wasn’t too concerned about her reaction. She would accept it, the way she had accepted every other step that led her to this room steeped in death. She would smile and touch his cheek and tell him she was ready. She had made herself ready.

He had been unable to do the same.

At only 57, Nicholas had expected to have many years left with Julia, his high school sweetheart, the woman he had loved for as long as he understood the meaning of the word. And although they never had children, he had always been happiest at this time of year, at Christmas, just to have her and love her on the most precious days of the year.

And how he hated the way they’d wasted their last year, going from doctor to doctor, treatment to treatment, Nicholas’ mind consumed with worry. His wife’s last year, and they had spent it dying instead of living.

Now, when it seemed certain she would spend the rest of her life in these same four walls, he was more determined than ever to give her what Christmas cheer he could. With permission of the hospital staff, he’d set up a small tree (artificial, sadly, but it would have to do) in the corner of the room, a wreath on the door – both sides –and even a small Christmas village on the dresser. He was in the process of tacking a pair of stockings on the wall when the doctor came in and told him they needed to have a word.

Now he was sitting in the small armchair in Julia’s room, staring at her sleeping face, letting his gaze drift to the stockings above her headboard, then back down again. She had told him to take it easy with the decorations – she’d never loved Christmas as much as he did, but he insisted they needed Christmas now more than ever.

Their last Christmas, he thought, exhausted. He had never allowed himself to consider that possibility before but now, suddenly, it was reality. Their last Christmas together.

As he fell asleep, his eyes were wet with tears.

* * *

When he opened them again, there was a light in the room he hadn’t seen before. Although he strung lights on the tree, it was a small strand of simple white lights that only gave the room a tiny glow. He would have preferred blinking lights himself, but he knew Julia didn’t like them.

Now, though, the tree was brilliant, sending out a beautiful fiery light that filled the room. All of his decorations glittered before him, far more wonderful than they’d been when he dozed off. His simple trimmings now had an intensity that would put professional displays to shame. He was shocked and humbled by the incredible display, trying to comprehend everything he saw and at the same time dazzled by it all.

“Do you like it, Nicholas?”

There was a gust and a feeling of warmth next to him and Nicholas rolled his head to look up at a towering giant of a man draped in red fur with white trimmings. A thick, white beard flowed down from his face and his red nose poked out above his whiskers, sandwiched between a pair of cherry cheeks. His eyes, blue and clear, glittered as beautifully as the lights on Nicholas’ tree.

“I’m dreaming,” Nicholas said. “I must be dreaming.”

“I get that a lot,” the visitor whispered. “I’ve been watching you, Nicholas, for a long time. Nicholas. Ho, ho… you know, I was once a Nicholas myself.”

“I… I know.”

“Oh, of course you know. You know all about me, don’t you?”

Nicholas nodded very slowly.

“You know. And you believe too, don’t you? Even if part of you is telling the rest that I must be a dream, in your heart you believe in me.”

“Yes,” Nicholas said. His eyes began to water again and he fell out of his chair to his knees. “Yes, I… I believe.”

The kind face smiled and he extended a hand, lifting Nicholas to his feet. “Oh, Nicholas, do not prostrate yourself before me. I have come to honor you.”

“Me? What have I done?”

“You have believed all these years. You have never given up on me in your heart. You have carried the Spirit of Christmas with you all the year. And I have come to reward you. Nicholas, I want you to come with me, come to my workshop, and join me in my mission. You will never age, never grow ill, never die.”

“You want me to join you?” Nicholas wrapped his arms around the apparition, sobbing openly. “Oh my God… I never hoped… never dreamed…”

“Yes you did, Nicholas, you did dream. That’s what makes you special. That is why I can make you this offer. Only people like you, people who never close your hearts, can possibly join me.”

Nicholas turned back to the hospital bed, where Julia was sleeping peacefully. She was growing so small, her skin so tight. Watching her in such a state was as painful to him as the sickness could be to her. “What about my wife?” he asked. “Can she come too? Can she be saved?”

He placed an enormous, white-clad hand on Nicholas’ shoulder. “Oh, my friend… I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way. Julia is a wonderful woman, but her time is almost up.”

“But you… you’re Santa Claus, right?”

“Yes, to you I am.”

“Then can’t you do something?”

“I could… if she believed in me.”

“Well let’s just wake her up! Open her eyes! The minute she sees you--”

“She would dismiss me as a man in a suit. Nicholas, I am born of hope and I feed on love and faith. Faith is not accepting the evidence of your eyes. It is accepting the truth you know in your heart.”

“Give me time,” Nicholas said. “I’ll talk to her. I’ll make her believe.”

Santa Claus smiled, a small smile for such a mountain of a man. “She’s already had her entire life. And the window for me to take you into my home is very short. I make this offer just once.”

“Please, Santa, please. Not for me, for her.”

Santa’s smile grew slightly. “So be it. I give you until the stroke of midnight on Christmas Eve. Then you must have convinced her, or leave her forever.”

“Thank you,” Nicholas said. “Oh, thank you.”

“Thank me,” Santa Claus said, “On Christmas.”

* * *

Nicholas’ eyes opened suddenly. He was still in the armchair, still in the very position where he’d fallen asleep. The decorations were dimmed back to their original sparkle – warm, but not fiery. And Julia’s small chest still rose and fell, rose and fell, beating out a slow rhythm of a life about to reach a final crescendo. His breath grew short as he tried to process what had happened, trying to convince himself it was just a dream. But it wasn’t, he knew. Somehow… he knew.

And somehow, he had to make Julia believe it as well.

He wanted to jump up, to run right to her side and wake her like a child on Christmas morning – it wouldn’t be the first time he’d done such a thing in their nearly 40 years of marriage. But to wake her up to tell her about his visit with Santa Claus… she would simply declare with a joke in her voice that her lingering sickness had finally rendered him insane.

Santa Claus was something of a sore subject with them as well. Back in the earlier days of their marriage, before it became clear that they weren’t going to be blessed with children, they had debated Santa more than once – Julia told him she didn’t even know if she wanted her children to believe in Santa Claus.

“You’re kidding,” Nicholas said to her that day.

“No, I’m not. Nicholas, you’re basically lying to your children. And then when they find out the truth, they’re heartbroken.”

“Julia, it isn’t like that at all,” he pleaded. “Santa Claus is important. He means something. And it’s not lying--”

“I know, sweetheart, Santa Claus represents the spirit of Christmas and all that. And the fact that you are so good-hearted as to believe that is one of the things I love about you.” She kissed his forehead then, gently, so as to signify that for the moment the conversation was over, and Nicholas accepted that, but she was wrong. He wasn’t talking about Santa Claus being real in any sort of abstract, mystical sense. He meant as an actual person, a man, flitting from rooftop to rooftop. He was an anomaly, he knew, believing in Santa Claus at his age, but he didn’t care. Somewhere he just knew. He’d just never expected that belief to come with such a payoff.

When her eyes slowly flittered open, he told her what the doctor had said. Softly, she nodded, even smiled. She again kissed his forehead and told him it was okay.

For the first time, though, he actually believed that maybe it could be okay somehow. It wouldn’t be easy, and he would have to bring a lifetime of Christmas cheer to her in her last few weeks. But they were both going to have another chance. He swore it – he’d swear it all the way to the North Pole.

He’d start with the Christmas village. It was cute, but that’s all it was. Cute. He needed so much more than cute. He needed better houses, more elaborate ones… a bed of cotton for snow, glitter… he could even see himself suspending a Santa Claus from the ceiling. Fishing wire would be best, almost invisible.

The hospital staff, to their credit, had taken to turning their heads where visiting hours were concerned for Nicholas, and there was a 24-hour Wal-Mart just three blocks away. It took Nicholas three trips to make everything absolutely perfect, but before the sun started to climb in the sky, Julia’s room had been transformed into an Arctic paradise.

Julia’s eyes fluttered open just before 7 a.m. She reached out for the cup of ice water by the side of her bed – it was there, as it was, every morning since she’d been admitted to the hospital. Nicholas knew she woke up thirsty, and always had it ready. She lifted the pale yellow cup to her lips and tipped it back, spilling the first cool drops into her mouth. As she lifted her head up, she caught a glimpse of a strand of garland over his head.

“What?” she mumbled.

She reached up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes, certain that the room would be back to normal, that she just had a momentary hallucination brought on by a combination of drugs, disease and general weakness. But now, while her body may be betraying her, her eyes were still working properly. There was, in fact, a string of evergreen circling the room, every wall, ringing the room neatly. Lined up along the far wall was a Christmas village more storied and elaborate than anything Nicholas had ever even built at home. Nicholas had been completely indiscriminate when it came to selecting the buildings that made up his new winter wonderland as well – filling stations adorned with Coca-Cola signs were right next door to a brightly lit cartoon gingerbread house, across from a quiet Victorian church with a single flickering light in the window, beyond which stood what appeared to be a red doghouse with a white beagle in a stocking cap lying on the roof. Nicholas was sitting in his usual chair next to her bedside, smiling in a way she hadn’t seen since her first diagnosis so many months ago. She loved that smile, even if she found herself confused as to where it was coming from.

“Nicholas… what is all this?”

“Merry Christmas, Julia,” he said. “You’re going to be here for a little while, and I knew we may not be able to go out looking at Christmas lights this year like we usually do. I thought I would bring Christmas in here to you, instead.”

“Oh,” she said. “Oh… my. Nicholas, it’s very… elaborate.”

“I knew you’d like it.”

“Well, I… certainly appreciate it,” she said. The smile on her cheeks didn’t extend to her eyes, though, Nicholas couldn’t lie to himself. She was smiling for him, not for herself.

“You don’t like it?”

“Oh, it’s not that. It just seems a little… well… much.”

“Much?”

Nicholas looked around the room. Was it too much? It was the sort of thing he’d wanted to put up at home his entire life, but Julia had never been into the idea. But then… maybe that was the problem. He looked up at the Santa he’d suspended from the ceiling, leading his sleigh, his eyes twinkling, and something in Nicholas’ mind clicked into place.

I am born of hope. I feed on love and faith.

“This isn’t what it’s about,” Nicholas said.

“What’s that, dear?”

Nicholas turned slowly back to his wife. “This isn’t what it’s about. Christmas. It’s not about the decorations or the tinsel or the lights. It’s about… about…”

“Nicholas, what are you talking about?”

He simply smiled at his wife, reached over and touched her face. “Nothing, Julia. Don’t worry. I’ve just made a decision, that’s all.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m going to give you the greatest Christmas of your life.”

* * *

Over the next few days, Nicholas did his best to make good on his promise. Julia woke up a day later to find the room filled with cranes – tiny cranes folded from pieces of red and green paper. Nicholas had gone around to the hospital staff, people he’d grown to know as well as his own family these last few months, and asked them each to write a little message of hope for his wife, then taught them to fold the cranes out of the paper. She smiled at the beautiful gesture, and she thanked him. The smile this time was more genuine, but it still didn’t seem quite enough.

“Nicholas,” she said, surprise in her voice. “Where did these come from?”

“Just an early gift from Santa Claus,” he said.

“Oh, silly. This is from my own little St. Nick.” She took delight in picking up the cranes one at a time, unfolding them to read the inscription, and carefully folding them back. It was no trouble to return them to their transformed state, she was the one who had taught Nicholas to make them, after all. She’d told him a story once about a girl in Japan, stricken with leukemia, who had heard the legend that if a person folded 1,000 paper cranes, the gods would grant them one wish. Even with so many of the staff helping him, Nicholas fell far short of the 1,000, but he had hoped he would have enough to spark a little of that wishing spirit in Julia.

“Oh, Julia, it’s bigger than me, don’t you see that?”

“Nothing is bigger than your silly, sweet heart, Nicholas. I’ve learned that very well over the years.”

“But there is something, Julia. There has to be.”

“Nothing, Nick. Nothing is bigger than us.”

* * *

Nicholas didn’t realize when he began this that he was combating his own good nature. The very things that sometimes made his wife exasperated – his over-the-top decorations, his blind faith in the fact that there was something good out there – these were also the things she loved in him. And these were the things that made it harder for her to accept something beyond him.

As Nicholas began to prepare his next Christmas gift for his wife, she took a turn for the worse. Already low on weight, her appetite vanished, and it seemed whenever she moved her head more hair was left behind on her pillow. Nicholas had to fight back his own tears, seeing her in so much pain, forcing himself to remember the goal. The pain wouldn’t matter soon, if only he could open her heart. There were nine days left before Christmas. He had the time – after all, in all the movies, they usually did it overnight.

He thought long and hard about what he could do next. Love was the key, he knew that. She had to feel that unique love that comes with Christmas. But how? The misers in the movies always melted when they saw someone else in need – wasn’t it seeing Tiny Tim’s crutch that finally cracked old Scrooge’s heart? But there were two problems with that. First, she may not have his love for Christmas, but Julia was far from a miser. She was one of the kindest, most generous people he’d ever met. That was one of the reasons he fell in love with her in the first place. Second, who could he possibly show to her that was in worse shape than she was? She was dy—

No, he hadn’t said the “d” word yet, hadn’t even allowed himself to think it. He wasn’t about to start now.

But she was, she was… dee-ing. Refusing to admit the word didn’t make it any less true. If nothing else that would be obvious from the fact that she’d lived these last weeks in a blasted hospital, surrounded by the sick and the dee-ing.

She wasn’t the only one dee-ing here, was she?

No, no she wasn’t.

And who is worse off than a woman about to… dee? Nicholas asked himself.

Worse than a grown woman?

Why… a child.

* * *

“Mrs. Carson?”

Julia’s eyes opened to see Nadine, a pretty brown-eyed nurse she’d grown fond of, waiting by the door with a wheelchair. Nadine was a sweet child, just out of nursing school, and full of energy. She had a good heart, like Nicholas did. Julia had allowed herself, once or twice, to think that if they’d ever had children, one of them may have been like Nadine.

“I’m awake,” she said, almost insisting. These days she felt like she had to work harder to convince people she was conscious.

“How are you feeling today?

Julia smiled. “How do you think, dear?”

Nadine gave her a knowing smile and cocked her head slightly. “Are you feeling up to a little trip?”

“Oh, but yes. Did you book my tickets to the Bahamas? Nicholas has always promised to take me, but it never worked out.”

“Not the Bahamas, I’m afraid. Somewhere a little closer. Your husband wants you to see something.”

Julia smiled at that. She should have known – it seems like Nicholas always had something up his sleeve these days. The last two days in particular, he had been largely absent, not hovering over her the way she’d grown accustomed. Whatever he was planning this time was big. He was so sweet, trying to cheer her up, trying to make her smile. He just didn’t understand.

Nadine helped her up into the chair and wheeled her down the hall to the elevator. She took her down to the second floor, and rolled her down the hall past a door marked “Pediatrics.” She didn’t think she’d ever been here before.

As Nadine wheeled her into the pediatric ward, Julia noticed the layout was quite similar to the floor she was on. As they left the elevator, there was a nurse’s station and a large waiting area to the left. Beyond that was a wing of hospital rooms, wide doors to accommodate gurneys, leading all the way to a long window at the end of the hall. It was six o’clock, the sun was already down, and through the window she could see the twinkling lights of the city, twinkling a little more with Christmas cheer.

The waiting room of the pediatric wing was filled to bursting with children. Children in hospital gowns, robes, pajamas… some with bandages, some with burns, some that looked like they had no business being out of their beds. But even these wore smiles, wide ones, big enough to split their mouths, as if waiting for the greatest joy of their short lives. It was beautiful, Julia thought, even as she didn’t understand it.

She did understand, though, when she heard the inimitable chime of sleigh bells from behind the nurse’s station. As soon as the jingle began, it was drowned out by the cheers from the children assembled in the waiting area. She wasn’t watching the children, but she could imagine the smiles on their faces as the figure in red stepped out from the nurse’s lounge, a big green sack slung over his back, with the tops of brightly-wrapped packages poking out of them. Nobody else would recognize him, with the beard and hat covering almost his whole face. The beard wasn’t a cheap one, held on by a rubber band, but a professional makeup job, with the whiskers applied with spirit gum, moving with his mouth as he bellowed his “Ho! Ho! Ho!” to the gleeful children.

But she could still see the eyes. Nothing could ever disguise her Nicholas’s eyes.

He wasn’t just wearing the costume, though, he played the part perfectly. He went up to each child without even asking their name. “Hello, Christopher,” he said to the first one down the line. The little boy’s eyes bulged.

“You know my name?” he said, squealing.

“I know every child’s name, Christopher,” he said, beaming as brightly as Julia had ever seen. “Now, here’s what I don’t know.” He knelt down on one knee, bringing himself to eye level with the boy. “What is it that you want most for Christmas?”

Christopher smiled. “I want the LightCorps Versus the Soul Wraiths game!” he shouted.

Nicholas nodded. “Ah, video games. Would that be for the PSP, the Nintendo DS or the Game Boy?”

“DS!” Christopher shouted. Nicholas smiled and plunged a hand into his pack. He fished around, finally pulling out a small package with bright green paper and Christopher’s name on it.

“Well, my little friend, let’s see what we have for you?”

Christopher ripped the paper off in less time than it took for Nicholas to read the name and jumped up, throwing his arms around Nicholas’s neck. “Thank you! Thank you, Santa!” From the hands wrapped around her husband, Julia could see that Christopher was clutching exactly the game he’d asked for.

“How did he--”

“He’s been in here for two days,” Nadine whispered, not that the kids could have heard her over their squealing. Nicholas gave Christopher a kiss on the cheek and moved to the next child in line, a bright-eyed girl he called Trudy, who told him she wanted a My Favorite Puppy doll, which Nicholas promptly produced. “He’s talked to every parent in this ward, finding out what the kids wanted. He wanted to pay for it all himself too, but we took up a collection. We couldn’t let him do it all on his own.”

“Amazing,” Julia said. “I’ve been married to that man more than half my life, and he still amazes me.”

“He’s a good one.”

“He’s one of the best.”

Nicholas went to each child, leaving each of them glowing and clutching some desperately-craved gift. As he reached the last child, giving her a hug, his eyes met Julia’s from across the room. And he smiled. And he gave her a tiny wink. Smiling, as proud as she’d ever been, she winked back.

* * *

“So how did you like my performance?” Nicholas smiled as he stepped into Julia’s room, still wearing the Santa suit, as though he didn’t want to take it off. As she thought about it, he probably didn’t.

“Bravo, bravo!” she cheered, clapping her hands. “The Tony committee will be calling at any moment. Now come here, I’ve never kissed you with a beard before.”

Smiling as big as she’d ever seen him, Nicholas walked over to his wife, bent over and gave her a tender kiss. “You approve, then?”

“Oh, of course. You were wonderful. And you were right.”

“About what?”

“If we’d had children, I mean. You were right. We should have given them a Santa Claus.”

Nicholas’s heart soared when she said that. “Well, I can’t take all the credit, Julia. That was a Kris Kringle Limited production.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Can you keep a secret?”

Julia smiled and leaned towards him, like a child about to be given entry to some mythic world the grown-ups wouldn’t ever understand. “What is it?”

“I’m going to be one of Santa’s helpers.”

Julia didn’t mean to laugh, at least not as loudly as she did, but it was worth it. Laughing like that, just for a second, almost made her forget where she was and how her body felt. Laughing lifted the spirit right out of the body, where there was no pain. “Nicholas Carson, you silly, wonderful man.”

Nicholas’s face fell. “No, Julia, it wasn’t really me…”

“I know, I know, it was ‘Santa Claus’.” She smiled and kissed him again. “How any man could be so sweet is beyond me. You’ve always made me feel like the luckiest woman in the world.”

Nicholas nodded. “Well, you… you deserve it. Um… excuse me, I’ve got to take this beard off.”

And he ducked into the bathroom, not because he was desperate to pull off his fake beard, but because he knew it would do Julia no good to see his tears.

* * *

On Christmas Eve, from the time the sun rose, Nicholas didn’t leave Julia’s side.

He sat by her as she slept, talked with her when she was awake, looking on her with eyes full of love, hoping he could disguise his despair. She was feeling weaker than ever, he could tell, but her spirits were high, as she kept saying while she held his hand. She was asleep, that hand in his, when his eyes closed a few minutes before midnight.

The moment his lids shut, there was a shower of glitter and sparks all about him, and he could feel the presence of the man-mountain before he saw him.

“Have you come for us?” he whispered.

“I’ve come for you, Nicholas. Your time is up.”

“No,” Nicholas said. “No, please. Please, let me take her with me.”

“I can’t, Nicholas. I’m sorry, I truly am. If there was any way, I would, but her heart isn’t open to me.”

“I tried. I tried so hard.”

“I know you did. I was watching. You did wonderful things, Nicholas – for her, for the children, but in the end, it didn’t make her love me. All she saw was her love for you. And that, my friend, is exactly as it should be.”

“How could that be right?” Nicholas asked. “She’s ready, I’m ready--”

“She’s ready for a different journey. Now it is time for yours. Come with me, Nicholas. Join the Immortals. Spend eternity bringing joy to others the way you’ve brought it to her.”

“I can’t just leave her.”

“She only has a few days left, Nicholas, you know that.”

“Days?” Nicholas clutched her hand, bringing it tighter to his chest. “Let her spend her last few days without me? I couldn’t. I can’t.” A fat tear rolled down his nose, fell off the end and spattered to the blanket wrapped around his wife. “I’m sorry. I won’t leave her.”

“You would give up eternity to be with her for a few more days?”

“I’d give it up to be with her for a few more seconds.”

The glowing man sighed, but somehow, he didn’t sound disappointed. “I understand.”

Nicholas’s concentration was only briefly disrupted by the chimes as his watch beeped, the Christmas Cuckoo Clock he’d set in the corner began to chirp and, in the distance, a church bell began the first of a dozen tolls. He felt a giant hand rest on his shoulder.

“Your time is up, Nicholas. You can never come with me now, I’m sorry.”

“I know. It’s okay.”

“But Nicholas, it is Christmas. And you are entitled to a gift.”

Nicholas turned for the first time to look at the man standing over his shoulder. Beneath the white brim of his stocking cap were two of the bluest, oldest, kindest eyes Nicholas had ever seen. “I told you, Nicholas, that I was born of hope, and fed by love. It is people like you, my friend, that have kept me alive these many centuries, and this night you have given a gift of love such as I have not seen in many, many years. And although I can never take you with me now, I can reward you.”

“What do you mean?”

The spirit Nicholas called Santa Claus reached out, placing a red-gloved hand over his face, closing his eyes. The sparks and glitter in the room began to fade, and Nicholas felt himself falling asleep.

“Sleep, my friend. You have earned this rest. Sleep, and awaken to a Merry Christmas.”

* * *

Nicholas woke to the warm Christmas sun on his face, streaming in through the window. His hand was still laced in Julia’s – he had spent the night sitting in the chair by her bedside, his head in her lap, her hand in his own. Her hand didn’t feel the same as it did the night before, though. It felt heavier, somehow, and for the briefest of instants, he felt a chill rush down his back, afraid that the weight meant that something had left her.

But as he tightened his grip on her hand, felt her squeeze back, he knew he was wrong. Nothing had left his wife. Quite to the contrary, something was there that wasn’t there before. He reached out, slowly, and touched the nurse call button, and a few moments later, Nadine stepped into the room. Nicholas knew it would be her – the young woman’s family lived across the country, and she had volunteered to work on Christmas so those with families here in the city could be with them. She smiled as she stepped in.

“Is everything okay, Mr. Carson.”

“I think you should call a doctor.”

“Why?” The smile left Nadine’s face and she rushed to the monitors linked up to Julia. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. But I think someone should see this.”

“I don’t understand. Her heartbeat is strong… all of her vitals are strong. They’re stronger than they’ve been in days.”

“I know.”

Nicholas’s voice cracked. He was crying now, openly, and when Julia finally opened her eyes, she reached up and stroked his hair as he wept in her lap. And whenever anybody asked him what was wrong, he just kept whispering, “the gift, the gift.”

And when the doctors arrived and examined Julia, she wept too.

* * *

Julia left the hospital with her husband two days after the New Year. The doctors wanted to keep her longer for observation, hoping they could grow to understand the circumstances of her recovery (they hesitated to use the word, but whispers of a Christmas miracle in the hospital were inevitable), but she insisted on going home. She had spent too much time in the hospital, and she was ready to live again. It wasn’t her last time in the hospital, though. She came back every Christmas as Nicholas, in his Santa Claus suit, gave gifts to the children in the Pediatric ward, and all the nurses in the ward agreed he was the finest Santa Claus they had ever seen.

Julia lived for many more years, and when she finally did die, it was in the summertime, surrounded by sunlight and life and her husband, in her own home, in her own bed. Her last sight was her husband’s face, smiling, loving, and when she was gone he hurt, but he lived.

He was Santa Claus again that Christmas, and every Christmas thereafter, for as long as his body allowed him, and whenever someone asked him why he did it so joyfully, he simply replied that he was repaying a gift, although he couldn’t give any deeper explanation. Nicholas’s memories faded, the way one forgets a dream, until at last he was left with nothing but the sensation that he had been asked to make a choice, and the choice he made was one he would never regret.