Date: Sun, 18 Jul 2004 17:32:07 -0700 (PDT)
From: Corrinne S <quasito_cat@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Graschels of Guenther Street - Chapter 12

The Graschels of Guenther Street

M.C. Gordon

Pertinent information is listed at the beginning of
this series.  Comments welcome to
quasito_cat@hotmail.com or quasito_cat@yahoo.com


Chapter Twelve

     Eric and Jane had a two week vacation from their
tutoring and Pieter had given them a minimal amount of
homework over the holiday.  Eric was already enrolled
for the next semester in private school and had met
his new principal and teachers.  Jane was so delighted
at learning to read that she didn't want a vacation
until Deet assured her that things worked that way.

     Eric had his homework finished the first day but
spent time every afternoon with Jane, helping her with
her reading.  Deidre had found an old set of reading
primers in the attic and obtained Pieter's permission
for Jane to practice with them if she wanted to.

     "Look, Jane, you're famous," Eric said the first
afternoon he helped his foster sister work her way
through an old `Dick and Jane' primer.

     "Not for long," she whispered back.  " `Member?"

     Christmas Eve day arrived and the children were
primed for excitement from the party the night before.
 They were both up early and were finishing breakfast
when Deet finally woke and made his way to the coffee
pot.

     "You're up early," he said.  "I thought you'd
both sleep a little late today.  You were up past your
bedtime last night."

     "Couldn't sleep, Dad," Eric returned.
"Consuela's picking us up at nine. She's taking us to
a Christmas party for some of the kids she knows from
her school district.  We're going to pretend to be
elves and help give out Christmas presents."

     "Yeah," Jane added.  "We're going to be
Consuela's elves this year and Elf Louise's elves next
year."

     Deet nibbled at toast and drank his coffee while
the children chattered excitedly and Deidre cleared
the kitchen.

     "You're sure you know your schedule for today?"
Deidre asked Deet.

     "The only thing I'm doing differently this year
is spending part of my morning with a therapist," Deet
confirmed.  "I have to be at the Fuentes' house by six
for dinner and exchanging gifts.  Then we'll all go to
the river to listen to the carolers before we go to
midnight services.  Then it's home and bed.  Did I
forget anything?"

     "The presents, Dad," Eric reminded him.

     "Which presents?" Deet asked.

     "You know, our special ones," Jane replied.  "You
promised not to forget."

     "Oh, those presents," Deet said laughing.  "I
thought you meant some other ones.  They're on the
table inside the front door so that I'll see them on
my way out.  Don't worry; I wouldn't forget those
special presents."

     "Everything is ready for you to put in the oven
for dinner tomorrow," Deidre said.  "I bought one of
those spiral-sliced hams and it only needs a couple of
hours in a brown-in-bag.  The cornbread dressing is
already made and just needs to be heated.  The sweet
potatoes are in the refrigerator and your
grandmother's recipe to candy them is under the Texas
Wine Country magnet on the refrigerator.  Try to leave
me a piece of pecan pie."

     "Are you sure you won't spend the day with us?"
Deet asked.

     "I promised Aunt Minnie I'd spend Christmas with
her.  Besides," she added, "it's a family day and the
three of you need to have a quiet day alone.  I'll be
back on the twenty-seventh."

     Turning to Eric and Jane she said, "Come and give
me a Christmas hug.  When I come back you'll have to
show me everything Santa brought you."

     Jane whispered to her, "Thanks for pretending
there's a Santa.  Eric doesn't know the truth yet."

     Deidre laughed and kissed her forehead.  "There
are some secrets I'll keep to my grave," she said.
"Now, it's time for me to go.  Merry Christmas."

     Consuela was right on time, picking Eric and Jane
up at nine o'clock.

     "Be sure you bring your clothes for church
tonight," she said as Jane checked and double-checked
the packages they had in the two boxes in the foyer.

     "I've got them," Eric said as he headed down the
stairs with two sets of Sunday clothes on hangars.

     "You'll be at the house by six, won't you?"
Consuela asked Deet.

     "I'm hoping to be earlier than that," Deet told
her.  "I have to deliver the children's presents,
spend an hour telling Dr. Tran that I didn't spend my
childhood lusting after my father, and pick up a last
minute gift."

     Turning to Eric and Jane he said, "You two have a
good time and I'll see you later."  He was overwhelmed
at the strength of the hugs they gave him before
collecting their things and heading off with Consuela.

 . . .

     "You know, Mr. Graschel," Judge Solari said when
he was admitted to her private office, "I don't accept
gifts.  It's unethical."

     "This isn't from me, Your Honor," Deet said.
"It's from Eric and Jane.  I don't even know what it
is because they were very secretive about it."

     She accepted the wrapped box and shook it gently.
 "Would they be upset if I didn't take it?" she asked.

     "I'm sure they'd cry hysterically and launch a
campaign to remove you from the bench," Deet said
smiling.

     "Well, if you promise not to run against me in
the next election and accuse me of accepting bribes
then I think I should see what's in this box."

     With all the curiosity and delight of a child,
Angelina Solari untied the bow and opened the box.
The first thing she saw was a small card on which Eric
had written, `Mr. Fuentes said we should ask for a
fifth if you tell anyone we gave you this.'  She
laughed at the reference to Eric's appearance in her
court.

     "Oh my," she said as the removed her gift from
the box.  "This is beautiful."

     In her hands she held a coffee mug, not an
unusual item and quite popular as generic gifts.  But
this one was special for there was a gavel
hand-painted on the side with `Judge Angelina Solari,
Children's Court' in flowing script.  The interior
bottom contained another inscription with the
children's names.

     "Please tell them that I love it," she told Deet.
 "And, Mr. Graschel, I want you and the children back
here in my court right after New Year's.  I want to
tell them myself, with a reminder that I cannot accept
another gift from them so long as Jane's adoption
remains an open issue.  My bailiff will give you a
date and time."

     Deet's next stop was to the local office of
Freeman, Freeman, and Birch where he asked the perky
blonde secretary if Milhauser was available for a few
moments.

     "Lovely party last night," Herbert said as he
ushered Deet into his private office.  "Betty's going
to talk about it for months.  She's delighted that
you're going to let her see some of the things in your
attic, of course, but I think the highlight of her
evening was when Rick Jordan asked her to dance.  It's
a damned good thing he's gay or she'd leave me for him
in two seconds flat.  Hell, it's a good thing I'm
straight or I'd leave her for him.  I've never seen
anyone make the tango look that damned sexy.  It was
all I could do to keep little Herbie under control, if
you catch my meaning."

     "Rick has that affect on people," Deet managed to
say.  "He enjoys making women feel like they're
desirable as long as everyone understands that it's
just playing.  He's got this theory that straight men
have no idea how to be romantic and that's why so many
marriages fail."

     "I know you're not here to talk about the party,
so why the visit?" Herbert asked.  "Is there a problem
with Eric or Jane?"

     "Not a problem, but they're why I'm here," Deet
said as he produced the present.  "I'm playing Santa
today and delivering their gifts to an exclusive
circle of friends."

     "They didn't!" Herbert exclaimed.

     "They did," Deet replied, "and I think I've got
an idea what it is.  I think you'll like it."

     Herbert quickly opened the package and held up
Eric and Jane's gift.  "Well I'll be damned," he said
as he looked at the porcelain cup, like and yet not
like the one for the judge.  This one was more
delicate in nature, fitting with Betty's love of fine
antiques.

     "The wife is going to love this," Herbert said as
he held the cup, the script on which said, `Some
lawyers do what's best for children.'  And again,
scripted at the bottom were their names.

     "I have to give you this, Deet," Herbert said,
"you've given those kids a good home.  I had some
reservations at first, which I'm sure you understand,
but now I know I made the right decision when I agreed
to work with Manuel to help you keep Eric and gain
custody of Jane.  Tell them I'll call tomorrow
afternoon and let them know how much I appreciate
this."

 . . .

     "How are things between you and Rick Jordan?" Dr.
Tran asked Deet during their session an hour later.

     "What do you mean?" Deet asked.

     "I sensed a lot of hostility last night.  Is it
something you'd like to talk about?"

     "There's not really much to say," Deet finally
replied.  "I fell in love with Ramon when we were in
high school.  He wanted to come out in college; I
didn't.  Then he became involved with Rick.  I stayed
in the closet; Ramon didn't.  And I didn't fall in
love again.  The end."

     "Is it something that can be worked out?  Jane
will begin to pick up on the animosity, you know.
She's quite fond of Rick and it might make her think
that she has to decide between you as her foster
father and Rick as a friend."

     "Rick and I had a long talk last night," Deet
said.  "He hit me with some harsh truths that hurt,
but he was right.  I didn't want to admit that it was
my fault I lost Ramon so I spent years blaming Rick.
He made me realize that I'm to blame."

     "Not entirely," Dr. Tran said.  "I think he knew
exactly what he was doing.  He saw; he wanted; he
conquered, to very badly paraphrase Ceasar.  He was
older, out, experienced.  Ramon was vulnerable and
open to Rick's advances and you were just plain
clueless."

     "So what happens now?" Deet asked.

     "You go forward.  You're surrounded by love in
more ways than you know.  And you have so much love in
your heart to give.  That's evident in how much Eric
and Jane have progressed in such a short time.  Eric
doesn't surprise me because he had stability before
his mother died so he knows what it's like.  Jane, on
the other hand, never knew love.  The police have
determined that her mother was a prostitute in New
Orleans so there is no way to determine who her father
is.  Jane was prostituted as young as seven.  She had
no childhood, no love at all.  Her mother used the
money to pay for drugs.  It amazes me that the child
is free from any type of STD, but I guess the Lord was
taking care of her as best he could.  I'm not an
extremely religious man but I think there was a reason
you saw that late news report, Mr. Graschel.  Jane
belongs with you as much as you belong with her.  The
children have begun to melt that ice-sculpture you
have as a heart.  Don't keep yourself from letting the
right man finish the process."

     Deet looked deep into himself as the session
concluded before he remembered the package he'd left
in the waiting room.

     "Eric and Jane sent you a Christmas gift," he
said and handed the wrapped box to the psychiatrist.

     "I didn't expect this," Dr. Tran said as he
unwrapped and opened the box.  Inside was another
coffee mug, this one saying, `You helped to shrink our
fears.'

     "This is wonderful," he said.  "Please tell them
how much it means to me.  And let them know that I'm
especially grateful for their names on the inside."

 . . .

     Christmas Eve was one of the best Deet could
remember as he watched Eric and Jane exchange gifts
with the Fuentes children.  Dolls with assorted
dresses were exchanged between the girls along with
friendship bracelets and other mementoes that only
children think of while Eric and Jorge gave each other
signed basketballs and team jerseys.  It had taken
several telephone calls to Indianapolis for Herbert to
get a ball signed by the entire Pacers team for Jorge
to give Eric.  Eric's signed ball for Jorge was much
easier since Manuel simply passed on Eric's request to
Don Taylor.  An assortment of video games and CD's
were included until the living room floor was littered
with wrapping paper.

     The children's excitement grew as they sat,
bundled in coats and gloves, at tables on the cobbled
walk along the San Antonio River and listened to the
lovely strains of Christmas carols as barge after
barge of carolers passed.  When it was almost eleven
they made their way to the churches they would be
attending.  Deet hurried Eric, Jane, Jorge, and Connie
to the Lutheran church located three blocks from the
Catholic cathedral the rest of the Fuentes family
would be attending.

     As if caught in time and mirroring each other the
two services commenced.  A small altar boy swung
incense back and forth in front of the Catholic priest
while his counterpart carried a lighted candle before
the Lutheran minister.  Father Antonio read the
beautiful litany of Catholicism in Spanish while
Pastor Wilhelm led his congregation of German sons and
daughters through hymns in a language none of them
spoke anymore.

     It was midnight services and the vast differences
between the two religions disappeared with only the
resemblances remaining.  Both men of God, dressed in
the white vestiges of their offices, blessed their
flocks while slender white candles were lit as the
lights in the chapels were dimmed and the candlelight
services began.  Benedictions and blessings were
accompanied with a reminder that the season was named
for Christ's Mass.

     Father Antonio and Pastor Wilhelm were close
friends away from the pulpit and had known each other
since elementary school.  When they went their
separate ways after college, each determined to heed
his own call from a higher being, they remained
friends and always planned their midnight services to
end at the same time with both congregations meeting
in front of the Alamo for one last minute candle-lit
moment of prayer and hope for peace in the world.

     "Shi...whiz, it's cold," Jorge said when the last
candle had been extinguished in front of the Alamo.
"It's never been this cold before on Christmas Eve!"

     "Think it'll snow?" Eric asked.

     "In your dreams, Yankee boy," Jorge answered.
"There's Mom and Dad.  C'mon, Connie, let's go.  I'll
call you tomorrow, Dude," he said and hurried his
sister toward their parents and the promised warmth of
the ride home and comfortable beds.

 . . .

     Deet didn't know which was the more disturbing
when he woke Christmas morning -- a child on either
side of him, fully dressed in pajamas and robes or
Benji licking his chin while Miracle stumbled across
his eyes.

     "Coffee," he croaked.

     "Not until you get out of bed and see what Santa
brought!" two young voices said.

     "Can't I drink coffee at the same time?" Deet
managed.

     "Just come and see, Dad!" Eric exclaimed.

     Deet pulled on his robe, found an intact pair of
slippers, and stumbled toward his bathroom pushing his
hair back from his forehead.  "I don't function
without coffee," he mumbled.

     The children had opted to open their presents in
front of the family tree on the second floor.  Jane
took Deet's hands and led him to a chair in the
hallway and directed him to sit as Eric placed a cup
of coffee on a nearby table holding a Jade plant.

     The smell of the coffee was almost as potent as
the first sip and Deet sighed, "This is delicious."

     "Deidre showed me how to do it," Jane announced.
"Now can we open presents?  Pleeeease?"

     Deet made a great show of yawning, stretching,
and seeming to come awake.  "Okay," he said, "but you
said something about Santa?"

     "Totally awesome, Dad!" Eric said.  "Look at this
great saddle he got me for my new horse.  I can hardly
wait to show Jorge!  This is beyond rad!"  His eyes
conveyed that he was keeping up a pretext for Jane.

     "And what did he bring you, Jane?" Deet asked as
he yawned again and took another swallow of the high
king of all drugs in his opinion.

     "The most beautiful ever," Jane said as she
showed her foster father Santa's gift.  The doll was
two feet tall, porcelain with curly black hair and
dressed like a Victorian lady in a gown of velvet and
brocade.  It had cost Deet close to five hundred
dollars to have hand-crafted in Germany based on
several photographs, requested mere weeks earlier, and
asked to have made a priority.  The photographs had
been the deciding factor for the Deusseldorf doll
manufacturer to recreate one designed by an ancestor.

     "Are you going to open your other gifts?" Deet
asked as the coffee spread through his veins.

     "You bet!" Eric said as he played Santa.  There
was the usual assortment of things. Deet got socks
because children always buy their fathers socks and
after shave.  Eric and Jane opened more Playstation2
games and CD's.  Both of the children laughed as they
tried on their fuzzy slippers.

     "If you tell Jorge about these slippers I'll put
a lizard in your bed," Eric warned Jane.

     Jane didn't answer but looked toward the ceiling
instead and attempted to whistle something nonchalant,
at which she failed miserably and the two ended up
rolling on the floor in a friendly brother-sister
wrestling and tickling match.

     "Something's missing," Deet muttered as he stared
at the mound of torn wrapping paper on the floor.  "I
hope I didn't lose those other presents.  Maybe I hid
them in my bedroom.  Stay here; I'll be right back."

     Several minutes passed before he returned.  "I
found them," he said.  "They're up in my old bedroom
and I need help bringing them down."

     Eric and Jane bounded up the stairs to the third
floor and stopped to stare at the open door to Deet's
childhood bedroom.  The bed had been pushed to one
side and a complete HO electric train set was running
around the center of the room, stopping at the
station, speeding on its way past mountains and
streams, through tunnels.

     "Wow!  This is totally ... like ... super rad!" Eric
exclaimed.

     "This is the way my father gave it to me the
Christmas I was fourteen," Deet said.  "I was in love
with electric trains that year."

     "I love it, Dad!  Thanks!" Eric said as he hugged
Deet.  "But what about Jane?"

     "I think Jane's gift is sitting on the bed," Deet
replied.

     Jane took her eyes away from the train set long
enough to see the doll on the bed.  "It's just like
the other one!" she said, "only it's got blonde hair
and it looks a lot older."

     "This was my great-grandmother's doll," Deet told
her just before Jane cut off his breathing with her
arm wrapped around his windpipe.

     "We, uh, got one more for you, Dad," Eric said as
he rescued his father from imminent death by
strangulation.  "It's a surprise and Consuela and
Deidre helped us with it.  It's back downstairs under
the tree."

     Deet let Eric and Jane lead him back down to the
second floor and retrieve the gift they had hidden
under the tree-skirt.  He dutifully shook it and
listened to it before remarking that he couldn't begin
to guess what it was.

     "Open it!" Jane insisted as she clapped her small
hands together and Deet made a great show of carefully
loosening each piece of tape that held the package
shut.

     "Oh my God!" Deet exclaimed when he opened the
box and wiped away the tears that ran down his face.
"It's the most precious gift I ever got."

     From that moment, for the rest of the years that
the Graschel House would exist on Guenter Street, an
eleven by fourteen portrait of the two children in
front of the family Christmas tree sat in the center
of the mantle over the fireplace in the parlor.
Forever locked in time Eric smiled as he attempted to
keep Benji from squirming away while his foster sister
sat placidly holding a black kitten with round blue
eyes.  The sterling silver frame was engraved and
read, `Our first Christmas with our Dad.'

Author's note: I am not voicing my support for any
religious affiliation.  San Antonio is primarily Roman
Catholic and the local culture has been greatly
influenced by that Church.  My brother is a Lutheran
minister.  These are the two with which I am most
familiar.  It was not my intent to slight any other
belief and I would like to apologize if anyone feels I
have.  Any writer, particularly one writing about a
specific region of the world, should try to bring the
lives of their characters into a realm of
believability where the reader can begin to identify
with the place as well as the characters.  In order
for me to help you visualize and understand the city
in which I live -- the city where Dieter lives -- it
is necessary for me to introduce as many aspects of
life here as I can.  And religion plays a large part,
although I will try to keep it to a minimum.  Some of
the response I've received leads me to believe that
I'm doing what I set out to do.  This town has its own
abundance of abject poverty, misery, and crime which
will be addressed in future installations.

I'd like to thank everyone who has written to me,
voicing their support and encouragement.  I hope I can
live up to your high expectations.