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When you've spent as much time as I have leaping unprepared into strange situations with no idea of where or when you are, much less who, you learn to use all your senses to gather clues. For example, it was immediately evident that it was cold, very cold (I was shivering) and it was snowing. Through the cloud of my breath before me I could see a city street - a very busy street in a very large city. There was a newspaper vendor just a few feet away on the corner and I could read the legends of the New York Times and the Daily News most prominently. Yes, this looked like New York, and it had to be winter. From the vintage of the cars before me, I placed the year sometime in the early 60's. As to who I was, well, for the first time in all those leaps, I had no doubt as to my identity. One glance down at what I was wearing and I knew: I was Santa Claus.
Sam uttered the exclamation as he rolled his eyes slowly heavenward. A more thorough survey of his surroundings told him even more. He was standing next to a large red kettle imprinted on the side with the words "Salvation Army." He was holding a hand bell and most of the people crowding the sidewalks around him were laden with packages. No doubt it had to be the last few days before Christmas.
He stood slack jawed and with a vacant expression on his face until he noticed the odd, somewhat disapproving look directed at him by a passing shopper as she dropped a few coins noisily into the kettle. "Uh, thank you," Sam stuttered, "Uh, Merry Christmas." He smiled benignly as the woman shook her head and walked away. A second passerby dropped his contribution in the kettle and Sam flashed him a broad grin. "Thank you, sir, and Merry Christmas." The man nodded and proceeded down the street. Sam smiled to himself, pleased that he had gotten the hang of this so quickly.
"Excuse me," do you have change for a dollar?" asked the frumpily attired woman who had suddenly appeared before him.
"Oh, uh," quickly discovering there was nothing in his pockets, Sam realized that if he was carrying a wallet at all it must be in the pants he was wearing beneath the Santa costume and there was far too much padding in between for him to reach it.
"'Fraid not," he told the woman. "Sorry," he added.
"Well, I'm not going to put a whole dollar in!" she pointed to the kettle. "Can't you make change from there?"
"Uh, well," he replied, looking toward the small opening where the coins dropped through. It wasn't very large and he doubted he could reach his hand inside. He glanced at the impatiently waiting woman, then back at the kettle. He took one step toward it.
"I wouldn't try it if I were you," came the familiar voice from behind him. He shot a look over his shoulder and did a double take at the holographic form visible only to him - thankfully. Al's attire had always tended toward the flamboyant end of the spectrum, but the outfit he sported for this occasion was impossible to ignore - or, conversely, to look at for very long. Bright green slacks with matching green suspenders, topped with an even brighter red lame shirt decorated with silver bells scattered all over the surface. The capper was a tie of gold with flashing red holly berries and glowing green leaves surrounding the vertically lettered greeting "Merry Christmas"!
"That opening isn't large enough," the neon elf explained. "And you don't really want to be the Santa on 7th Avenue with his hand caught in the till, do you?"
"Uh," he turned to the woman and shrugged. "I don't think I can, ma'am. I'm sorry." She scowled at him for a moment, then muttering something under her breath, replaced the bill in her purse and started up the street. "Merry Christmas!" Sam called after her, but elicited no response.
"Puttin' on a little weight there, pal?" Al asked, eyeing Sam's heavily padded middle as he puffed away on his cigar.
"Very funny," Sam replied, "Maybe you'd like to tell me exactly when I am and what I'm doing here?"
"When?" Al replied, "Oh, that's easy. It's Christmas Eve in New York! December 24th 1962."
"And what am I here for?" Sam prompted.
"I don't know," Al replied.
Sam frowned, "What do you mean, you don't know? What does Ziggy say?"
Al glanced down at the display of his hand-held link to Project Quantum Leap's hybrid computer. "Happy Hanukkah," he read, frowned, slapped it with the heel of his hand, and looked again at the read-out. "Gee, I didn't know Ziggy was Jewish."
"Al," Sam scolded.
"I mean, who'd a'thought computers could be religious?"
"Al!" Sam was beginning to lose patience.
"Oh, wait. Gooshie has been entering some new sociological data files this week. Just like Ziggy to try and show off. You know, I bet he ..."
"AL!!!" Sam cried, then dropped his exasperated voice to a whisper as he glanced with embarrassment at the nearby pedestrians.
"All right!" Al cried in reply, not under the same volume restrictions as his more substantial associate. He tried pushing a few more buttons, with no luck. Finally, shrugging his shoulders, he shook his head to Sam.
"I'm sorry, Sam, but Ziggy isn't cooperating."
"What do you mean, he isn't cooperating?"
"Well, he says it's a holiday and he doesn't have to work."
"What?!" Sam exploded, totally oblivious, this time, to the attention he drew.
"I think he just doesn't know and won't admit it."
Sam fumed. "I swear to you, Al, if I ever get back home, I'm going to do some major reprogramming on Ziggy."
"Shhhh!" Al looked at him in horror. "You don't want to make him mad. We need him."
"He can't hear me," Sam pointed out. "He can only monitor your side of the conversation."
"Thank God," Al replied.
Sam sighed, looking around him as if hoping the answers to his questions would appear out of thin air. "Well, can you at least tell me who I am?" Al responded by looking his friend up and down meaningfully. Sam sighed. "Okay, let me put it another way. What name is on my driver's license?"
"Why don't you look?" Al asked. Sam raised the bell in his hand threateningly. Although there was no physical threat to Al's holographic image, the older man raised his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay," he cried. "But you're not going to like it."
"Tell me," Sam demanded.
"Well, when we asked the guy in the waiting room his name, he said, 'Santa Claus.' That's all he would say. He answered just fine when we asked where and when he had been just before he was in the waiting room, but all he'd answer about his name was, 'I'm Santa Claus.' And another thing, I've never seen anyone you bumped out take it all so calmly, like it was nothing out of the ordinary for him to suddenly be in a totally different place with a bunch of strangers asking stupid questions. I don't know, maybe he's a nut case!"
Sam shook his head. "Doesn't seems likely that the Salvation Army would have a nut case playing Santa for them," he reasoned.
"Well, then," Al hesitated, looking at Sam out of the corner of his eye. "Maybe he is Santa Claus."
Sam regarded Al appraisingly for a moment. From their long acquaintance, Sam had learned to read his friend pretty well. If he didn't know it was so ridiculous, he would swear Al was serious under that thin veneer of humor. "Come on, Al, I need help, not jokes," he implored. "We have to figure out what I'm here to do."
"'Scuse me," came a small and tentative voice from behind Sam. He turned to find himself faced with a well-bundled little girl, her bright blue eyes that peeked out from under long yellow bangs overflowing with tears that ran down her pink cheeks, and her lower lip protruding and quivering slightly.
"What's the matter, honey?" Sam asked as he knelt down to bring himself nearer the little girl's level.
"I lost my mommy," she sobbed.
Sam pulled the little girl into his arms and gave her a gentle hug. "Well, now, don't worry. We'll find your mommy," he told her. "What's your name?"
"Jenny," she replied. "Jennifer Marie Callahan."
Sam smiled at the formality in the little girl's tone. "All right, Jenny. Do you know where you lost your mommy?"
"If I knew that, I could find her myself," she replied.
"Watch out, Sam," Al warned. "This kid's got brains."
Jenny looked directly at the supposedly invisible Al and replied. "My daddy says I'm a gee-nus. That means I'm real smart for my age."
Al was taken by surprise for a moment, then he knelt down next to Sam. "I've known a couple of those in my life," he said, shooting a sidelong glance at Sam. "How old are you, little gee-nus?"
"I'm four years old, but I'll be five just after Christmas." She squinted her eyes and looked with interest at Al. "Are you one of Santa's elves?"
Sam tried vainly to restrain the chuckle that rose in his throat, but Al didn't blink an eye. "I'm more than that," he said with pride. "I'm Santa's head elf!" Jenny smiled.
"Jenny, honey, can you tell Santa and me what you mommy was doing just before you lost her?" Al asked.
"She was buying a sweater for Daddy. It was blue and green and had a picture of a deer on the front."
Al pulled out his link with Ziggy, and pressed a few buttons. "Sam, there's a department store just around the corner."
"Was she in the store when you lost her?" Sam asked. Jenny nodded. "Then you came outside after you lost her?" The little girl nodded again.
"Sam, why don't you go over and ask the doorman to have her mommy paged?" Al suggested.
"Good idea," Sam agreed, then looked at Jenny. "Will you stay right here with Al until I get back?" She nodded once more. "Okay, I won't be but a minute." He glanced over his shoulder at the pair as he walked away. Seeing Al with Jenny reminded him of the time he leaped into the mother of three children, one of which was a delightful little moppet named Teresa. That had been when they had discovered that some young children, up until they were about five, could see Al and could see Sam as he really was. He took a moment to be thankful that everyone looked pretty much the same in a Santa suit.
Al and Teresa had hit it off great right from the start. Al was terrific with children and Sam thought it was a real shame that out of his five marriages, he had never had any children of his own. He would have made a great dad.
As Sam departed on his mission, Al smiled at Jenny.
"Why do you call him Sam?" Jenny asked.
"Because," Al thought fast, "uh, we're real good friends and Sam is sorta short for Santa." Jenny looked a little unconvinced, but said nothing. "When he comes back, you can tell Santa what you want for Christmas," Al suggested. The little girl frowned. "What's the matter, Jenny? Don't worry. We're gonna find your mommy."
"I know," she replied.
"Then what's the matter?"
"It's what Billy said."
"Who's Billy?"
"My brother. He's nine."
"Oh, almost grown up," Al replied. "What did he say, sweetheart?"
Jenny hesitated, looking down at the toes of her shoes instead of at Al. "He said there was really no such person as Santa Claus. He said it was something parents made up for babies. He said I was a stupid baby and he laughed at me. He hates me because everybody is always talking about how smart I am."
"Sounds to me like Billy's just jealous," Al replied. The little parka-covered head bobbed once more. "Well, you just listen to me, okay? Many years ago, there was a little girl very much like you. In fact, her name was Jenny, too, except that it was short for Virginia and she lived right here in New York. Some of her friends had been telling her that there was no such person as Santa Claus and she was worried."
"What did she do?" Jenny asked as she looked intently into Al's face.
"Well, Virginia's papa had told her that if it was printed in their favorite newspaper, the New York Sun, then it was so. You know newspapers have to make sure what they print is the truth or they can get into a lot of trouble."
"They can get sued," Jenny agreed.
Unbeknownst to the pair, Sam had returned, after involving the department store doorman in locating Jenny's mother and was listening intently to the tale.
"You bet they can," Al nodded. "Anyway, Virginia wrote a letter to the editor of the newspaper. Do you know what an editor is?"
"He's the man who decides what goes into the newspaper," Jenny replied.
"That's right. He's a very important man. Well, she wrote to him and asked him if there is a Santa Claus."
Jenny's eyes grew wide. "What did he say?" she asked.
"He told her that her friends were wrong. You see, sometimes when people start to grow up, they start to think they know everything there is to know and they feel very proud of themselves. They start thinking they're too grown up for imagination. They stop believing in things that they can't see. You know, not everybody can see Santa Claus and those who can can't see him all the time."
"Then there is a Santa Claus?"
"You better believe it!" Al replied. "You see, the really smart people are the people who know that there are always new things to learn and that some things exist that you can't see or touch."
"Like what?"
Al's brow furrowed for a moment. "Like love," he replied. "Now, you can't see that, but you can see how it makes people act and feel, so you know it exists, right?"
"Right!" Jenny agreed readily.
"You know, Jenny, if there wasn't a Santa Claus, the world would be a pretty miserable place to live in and if there were no children like you who still have imagination and still believe, that would make it a pretty miserable place, too."
"Santa Claus is the nicest man in the world, isn't he, Al?"
"You bet, Jenny. I ought to know. He's my best friend." Al suddenly became aware of Sam standing just a few feet away. He shrugged at the younger man and Sam gave him a nod. No words were necessary.
"Jenny!" Sam turned at the excited cry and saw a package laden woman frantically rushing toward them, followed closely by a boy of about nine. The woman dropped her packages as she reached the child and scooped her up in her arms.
"Mommy!" Jenny cried in return and threw her little arms around her mother's neck.
"Are you all right? I was frantic when I turned around and you weren't there."
"I'm okay, Mommy," Jenny replied. "I was just talking to Santa Claus and Al." She pointed toward what appeared to them to be empty space.
"Who, dear?"
"Santa Claus and Al," Jenny repeated.
"Who's Al?" the boy asked.
"Don't you know anything, Billy. Al's Santa's head elf!"
"So where is this Al?" Billy demanded.
Jenny looked at him in disbelief. "He's right there, don't you see him?"
Billy laughed scornfully. "You're stupid! There's no one there."
Jenny looked back at Al. "Not just everybody can see me either," he told her with a smile. "Don't tell Billy, but he's the stupid one."
"Al," Sam whispered through clenched teeth. "Be nice."
Al just smiled at him, then turned to look once more at Jenny. "Don't forget, Jenny. Imagination isn't dumb. In fact, the luckiest people in the world are the one's who never forget how to imagine no matter how grown up they are. Just believe."
"I'll remember, Al."
Al leaned forward and whispered, "Now, better give Santa a hug and kiss and whisper in his ear what you want for Christmas before you go."
Sam knelt down again as the little body flung itself against his chest, almost knocking him over in her exuberance. She whispered what she wanted in his ear, and pushed back to look into his face.
"I think I can manage that," he told her. She planted a kiss on his cheek.
"Thank you, Santa," she replied, then turned back and started toward Al, obviously intending to give him the same treatment, but instead she ran right through him. She looked back at him in surprise.
"You can't touch Al, Jenny," Sam told her.
"Why not?" she asked.
"Because I'm not as powerful as Santa," Al explained, the expression on his face was genuinely sad.
"Maybe you can't touch him, but you can blow him a kiss," Sam suggested.
Jenny did just that.
"Thank you, sweetheart," Al said softly.
"Come on, Jenny," her mother said, reaching for the little girl. "It's time we went home."
Jenny took her mother's hand and waived goodbye to Sam and Al as they started up the street, a rather unhappy Billy left to carry all the shopping bags.
"Goodbye, Jenny," Sam called.
"Bye bye, sweetheart," Al added quietly.
Sam turned and looked at his friend with a gentle smile. "That was really nice, Al."
Al gave him a sad smile in reply. "Thanks."
Sam's smile suddenly disappeared. "Al!" he cried, the urgency in his voice causing his friend to come instantly back to reality. "I'm about to leap! I can feel it."
"Well, you must have accomplished whatever it was you came here to do."
"But, what did I do?" he asked in puzzlement.
"You found Jenny's mother for her," Al replied.
Sam shook his head. "This time, I think it was you that accomplished what He wanted done." He nodded toward the sky as he offered Al a lopsided smile. "Merry Christmas, Al," he said as the bright blue glow engulfed him.
"Merry Christmas, Sam," Al replied before his friend disappeared completely.
It was late and the complex were all but deserted as Al sat alone in his office, an oversized children's book that Ziggy had given him the title of spread out before him. He finished reading the last page, closed the book and gazed down at the cover. Colorfully rendered by a talented artist was a lively-looking illustration of the book's main character, dressed in green pants, a bright red shirt that was covered with jingle bells and a flashing tie, all of which was very familiar to the man studying it. The title, which appeared just above the elf's head, was Just Believe, and below the picture were the words: "Written and Illustrated by Jennifer Callahan Rossi."
Al opened the cover and for the second time that night and read the dedication.
"Neither will I, Jenny," he replied with a smile before he closed the book again and headed home for a little sleep before confronting Sam's next crisis.