like the Jetsâ chances to make the playoffs,â Patrick would reply.
Patrick knew as much about football as they likely did about Shakespeare. But heâd decided early on to lay off the Bard when it came to the cops, and stick to sports. As he had learned in the past, just one misinterpreted line could threaten their easy communication.
âWeâre going all the way!â the first cop always shouted.
âSuper Bowl bound, baby!â said the driver.
âCry âHavocâ and let slip the dogs of war!â Patrick had once cried out with hearty exuberance.
âHuh?â said the first cop as his partner pulled the car to a stop.
âI only meant to say . . . Weâre going all the way, baby!â Patrick answered.
The passenger cop finally nodded. âYou said it, Joker.â
The patrol car had continued on its way and Patrick vowed to keep to the plain English sports script in the future.
Now he sat in his sonâs hospital room having decided that he had earned the right to work that corner. Indeed, he was a true laborer. And tomorrow he would be back on the job.
Chapter 15
IF WE SHADOWS HAVE OFFENDED
âI will honor Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year!â Patrick held court on the sidewalk corner in as kingly a manner as he had the entire two weeks heâd claimed that patch of concrete for himself. Four whole days had passed with no sign of the false Santa. Patrickâs back-alley boys had scared him off, or maybe it was just that the thug didnât want any trouble and found himself another street on which to thieve.
And now Patrick performed to the largest crowd heâd collected yet. This December Friday evening the commuters were more than in the mood to stop and listen to the beloved beggar recite from A Christmas Carol . They were expectant.
âI will live in the past, the present, and all the future.â
Mila smiled wide, and even Ted grinned over at his assistantâs face and then back to the panhandler, the initial suspicion of the costumed man now transformed into a genuine affection.
âThe spirits of all three shall strive within me. I will not shut out the lessons that they teach.â Patrickâs strong, theatrical voice carried over the dense crowd, past Mindy, whoâd stopped even though there hadnât been the chance for their usual exchange; past Kent, who stood with his new fiancée holding a department store bag of Christmas packages; past George, who nodded his head with admiration at the beggar, who was the most tireless spirit that the stockbroker had ever witnessed.
And the voice finally landed in the crowdâs far back row, where there stood the thug. Still stubble-faced, but minus the yuletide getup, the thug looked from Patrick over to where his cohort stood on the other side of the crowd. The two men met eyes as the thug put a finger to his nose, but it wasnât because he was about to fly up a chimney.
âOh, tell me I may sponge away the writing on this stone!â Patrick called out across the circle to Mila, who smiled.
âPut a pineapple ring on your head and call you a Christmas ham!â the young woman yelled, as the crowd laughed and Patrick bowed with his trademark flourishing wave of the hand.
âI am a banquet who seeks not to feed the stomach, but only the ears.â
Ted nudged Mila to move on, but not before he reached through the crowd to drop a one-hundred-dollar bill into the beggarâs cup. Mila caught Tedâs arm as they made their way back to the office, âDid I just see what I think I saw? A Benjamin sailing through the air into a panhandlerâs jar?â
âWell, he gives good value. And besides, times are hard all over these days. I admire anyone who isnât afraid of looking foolish to take care of his child. Now stop wasting my timeâyouâre on the clock.â
Mila smiled to herself and