"There's a little boy."
He looked down at the photograph.
"Five years old."
The words seemed difficult to say.
"He's very sick."
Jim closed his eyes.
For several moments, he simply breathed.
Then he carefully placed the photograph inside his leather vest, close to his heart.
He stood.
Walked to the closet.
And took down the enormous red Santa coat he had bought for the hospital visit.
He laid it across the bed.
The white fur trim looked almost absurd beside his black leather riding clothes.
His daughter would have laughed at the sight.
Jim could nearly hear her.
Daddy, your beard is already Santa's beard.
He smiled through tears.
"Yeah, baby."
He touched the photograph beneath his vest.
"I suppose it is."
Christmas Eve began before sunrise for the nursing staff at St. Mary's.
Rachel arrived carrying a travel mug of coffee, a small tin of homemade cookies for the break room, and a folded drawing her daughter had slipped into her lunch bag.
She discovered the drawing while changing into her blue scrubs.
It showed Rachel wearing a nurse's uniform beside a cartoon Christmas tree.
Across the bottom, her daughter had written, Merry Christmas, Mom. I know the kids need you too.
Rachel sat down.
For a moment, she stared at the paper.
Then she folded it carefully and placed it inside her locker.
She called home before beginning her shift.
Her husband answered.
"Morning."
Rachel smiled faintly.
"Morning."
"You're early."
"Busy day."
He laughed softly.
"Every day is a busy day."
She hesitated.
"Did she mean what she wrote?"
There was a pause.
Then he said, "She did."
Rachel swallowed.
"I know I've missed a lot lately."
"She knows you love her."
"That's not always the same as being there."
Her husband was quiet for a moment.
Then answered gently.
"No. It isn't. But we'll figure it out."
Rachel nodded even though he could not see her.
"I'll try to get home before midnight."
"Don't promise what you can't control."
She smiled sadly.
"Fair enough."
He continued.
"We'll save you dinner. And if you're late, we'll have Christmas breakfast."
Rachel felt tears sting her eyes.
"Thank you."
After hanging up, she remained seated for another moment.
Then she stood.
Straightened her scrubs.
And returned to the ward.
The first child she visited was Lily.
The seven-year-old lay beneath a yellow blanket while her mother arranged a few paper decorations near the window.
Rachel knocked gently.
"Merry Christmas Eve."
Lily smiled weakly.
"Is it Christmas yet?"
"Almost."
"Do you think Santa knows I'm here?"
Rachel looked toward the little tree beside the bed.
She knew about the bikers.