The Miracle on 34th Street (7 page)

Kringle's face was turning red with anger. Collins glanced at him, then continued: "As a sworn guardian of the law, as a citizen, and as a father, I maintain that this man, who masquerades as a figure of warmth and generosity for profit—"

Kringle bolted up from his seat. "
That's not true!
"

"Kriss! Sit down, please!" Bryan urged.

Judge Harper banged his gavel. "Mr. Kringle will refrain from comment, or he will be removed from the courtroom!" he commanded. "Continue, Mr. Collins."

"It is my wish that Mr. Kringle come under the supervision of the state, so that the children of New York are not put at risk." He turned and looked directly at Kringle. "No one wants to wait until Mr. Kringle injures a child before we act."

Kriss Kringle started to rise. Bryan held him back, but Kringle slapped his hand out of the way.

Collins grinned with anticipation, waiting for Kringle to seal his own doom.

"
HEY, YOU BIG JERK!
"

The entire courtroom turned toward a high-pitched voice in the back of the gallery.

Susan Walker was standing up in her seat. "
MR. KRINGLE'S THE NICEST MAN IN THE WORLD!
" she yelled out. "
HE'D NEVER HURT ANYBODY!
"

Dorey pulled her daughter down into her seat. The gallery sounded like a hockey game now. People whooped and hollered.

Whack! Whack! Whack!
"Order! Order!" Judge Harper shouted.

Kriss was looking over his shoulder at Susan. His eyes were bright with pride and thanks.

Collins walked up to the bench. "The state rests, Your Honor."

As Collins went cockily back to his table, Bryan winked at him and whispered, "Thanks."

Collins looked quizzically at him.

"I had nothing," Bryan said. "My only defense was your offense." He rose to his feet, ignoring Collins's befuddled face. "Your Honor, I have no further witnesses. I rest my case."

Now it was Judge Harper's turn to look befuddled.

Bryan knew it looked unusual—a defense attorney, just
giving up
. But he had to stick with his strategy.

"I shall render my opinion on this matter at noon tomorrow," Judge Harper announced. "Until

that time, this court is in recess!"

WHACK!

The hearing was over.

The headlines lay across Judge Harper's desk. He had had a day to think about it. Now it was almost time for his decision.

Harper looked glumly out his window. He was not alone. Behind him, Prosecutor Collins sat at the edge of a desk. On a sofa were Jack Duff and Alberta Leonard.

Perched on a chair, Victor Lamberg glowered at Harper like a vulture.

"You saw the morning papers?" Lamberg growled.

Judge Harper nodded meekly.

"Mr. Collins has done his work well," Lamberg continued. "A little
too
well."

Collins gulped and looked away.

"My grandchildren think I'm a scrooge," Judge Harper remarked. "The court clerk gave me a dirty look."

"The only way out is to declare this man insane," Lamberg said flatly. "If you'd done it at once, as Mr. Collins told you—"

"
I'm
the judge, Mr. Lamberg," Harper said. "A prosecutor doesn't tell me what to do."

Collins chuckled. "There's no way out, Harper. You can't make a decent legal argument for Santa Claus. You'll look like an even bigger fool than you already do."

"What about the people?" Judge Harper asked. "What'll
they
think of me?"

Lamberg gestured toward a leather briefcase on the desk. "There's a hundred thousand dollars on your desk. Does it really matter?"

Judge Harper took a deep breath. He looked at his watch.

Two minutes until noon.

Lamberg got out of his chair and lifted a newspaper off the desk. "How many people do you think are going to fall for this Cole's publicity stunt? A handful of nuts . . . some kids. Be smart, Harper. Put this guy away and let's get this thing behind us."

Snap!
Lamberg unlocked the fasteners on the briefcase. He pulled it open.

The smell of new money rushed into the air. Judge Harper stared at thickly packed piles of crisp hundred-dollar bills.

His eyes darted toward his watch again. 11:59.

One minute.

Judge Harper walked to his window again. Outside, the first snow of the year was gently falling. It muffled the car noises, the roar of the crowd . . . .

Judge Harper's eyes narrowed. What a crowd. People clogged the sidewalks, the streets. They stood by office windows, on top of cars. They emerged from the subways, looking at the courthouse.

And they were
roaring
. All of them. He couldn't tell what they were saying. But he knew what was on their minds.

Judge Harper spun around. Lamberg was glaring at him, his eyes bloodshot and eager.

Beep!
went Harper's watch.

It was noon.

Sweating time.

The roar outside was rising in intensity. The snow was falling thick and fast.

Judge Harper walked to his desk. He plunged his hand into the briefcase and picked up a fistful of cash.

One hundred thousand dollars. More than a year's honest work.

He examined one of the bills, flipped it over, stared at the inscription on the back:
IN GOD WE TRUST.

Clenching his jaw, Judge Harper marched into the courtroom.

The gallery was jam-packed. And noisy.

They all fell silent as Judge Harper stood at the bench.

He held the money in the air. "This is a one-hundred-dollar bill," he announced. "It is issued by the Treasury of the United States of America and is backed by the government. Upon inspection you will see the words
IN GOD WE TRUST
. While we are not here to prove that God exists, we are here to prove the existence of a being just as invisible and yet just as present."

He lowered his voice. In the eerie hush, every syllable echoed to the back row. "On faith and faith alone, the federal government has put its trust in God. What guides the government? The will of the people. If the United States of America can issue its currency bearing a declaration of trust in God—without demanding physical evidence of God's existence—then the state of New York can accept, by a similar demonstration of the faith of its people, that Santa Claus does exist, and that he is Kriss Kringle."

Whack!
He smashed down the gavel with all his strength. "Case dismissed!"

The gallery exploded with cheers. Bryan jumped to his feet and wrapped Kringle in a bear hug.

The court clerk opened a window and shouted to the throng in the streets: "
CASE DISMISSED! SANTA CLAUS WINS!
"

Like a rumble of thunder, the crowd's cry swept up and down the street.

As Bryan let go of Kriss Kringle, he came face-to-face with Prosecutor Collins.

Collins broke into a smile and extended his hand. "Congratulations, counselor."

"Thank you," Bryan replied, grasping Collins's hand.

"Merry Christmas, Mr. Kringle," Collins said. "My children wanted me to remind you not to forget to stop by our house tonight."

"I will not forget," Kringle assured him.

"We're in Stamford. Thirty-one thirty-three Brompton Road. Big white house."

With a nod, he took off.

"Well, Kriss, you're free," Bryan said. "I don't know how much help I was, but that's not important."

"You came to my defense," Kringle replied. "Without you, I'd have been put away without a peep.

"The truth is, Kriss, it was Dorey's idea. She called and asked me to help you."

"
Dorey
did?"

Bryan nodded. "You made a believer out of her."

Kringle's eyes welled up. "That's such good news!"

"You made a believer out of everybody," Bryan continued.

"Not everybody," Kringle said. "There are still a few who don't believe. One in particular."

"Kriss!"

At the sound of Dorey's voice, Bryan began collecting his papers on the defense table.

Dorey and Susan Walker plunged through the crowd. Dorey threw her arms around Kringle. "I'm so happy for you, Kriss!" she cried.

Susan turned toward Bryan. "Way to go, Bryan."

"Thank you, Susan," Bryan replied.

Dorey pulled away from Kringle and smiled at Bryan. "Congratulations," she said.

"Thank you, Dorey." Bryan offered his hand, and Dorey shook it.

Susan and Kriss Kringle exchanged a hopeful look.

"Well," Bryan said, "have a merry Christmas."

"You, too," Dorey answered

For a moment, no one said a word. Then Dorey took Susan's hand. "We'll let you go," she said to Kringle. "Merry Christmas and good luck."

With an exchange of Merry Christmases all around, Dorey and Susan headed for the door.

Susan's eyes were full of disappointment. As she glanced at Kriss Kringle one last time, he gave her a confident wink.

Bryan shut his briefcase. "You want to share a cab home, Kriss?"

"Home? Oh, no, not tonight. I'm going to be very busy."

Bryan laughed. "Christmas Eve. That's right."

"My deepest thanks, Bryan. I shall never forget you. In all my travels past and future, I won't find as good a friend as you. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas."

Kriss Kringle turned away. With a bounce in his step, he went out the door.

The crowd had emptied. Bryan stood alone in the courtroom.

He picked up his briefcase and left.

His footsteps echoed hollowly on the tiled floor.

Victor Lamberg threw the afternoon newspaper onto his desk. He turned it so the headline faced Jack Duff and Alberta Leonard:

"This is going to blow up in my face, isn't it?" Lamberg asked.

Neither Duff nor Alberta had an answer for him.

"I lost bigger than I ever thought I'd win," Lamberg mumbled.

"There was a lot of pressure," Duff said. "Who knew what the judge would do when he was faced with having to put Santa Claus in the nuthouse?"

"
He isn't Santa Claus!
" Lamberg thundered. "What's the matter with everybody? There
is
no Santa Claus!"

He stalked to the window and stared out.

Alberta looked at Duff. She pulled a button out of her pocket and showed it to Duff.

He squinted and read the words on the button:
I Believe In Santa Claus
. Right under the Cole's logo.

Duff stifled a laugh. He looked at Lamberg's back, then quickly opened his suit jacket.

The same button was pinned to his own vest.

A light on Lamberg's phone began to flash. His secretary leaned into the office and said, "Mr. Lamberg? Your granddaughter's calling."

Lamberg turned from the window. His face was creased with worry. He looked suddenly broken, old, and frail.

"Is she angry?" he asked.

When she arrived home from work, Dorey noticed a small blue envelope in the mail. On it, the words
To DOrey—Urgent
were written in an unfamiliar handwriting.

She ripped open the envelope and read the message inside:

After wandering around the city, Bryan arrived at his office late that evening. He noticed a lightblue envelope on his desk, marked
To Bryan—Urgent
.

On the inside was a note:

That night, before going to bed, Susan gazed out her bedroom window. Snow fell steadily, muffling the street noise below. She looked into the grayish-white sky. She couldn't see much because of the snow.

Not that she expected to see anything. After all, Christmas Eve was a night just like any night.

She plopped her head on her pillow and tried to sleep.

Dorey arrived at the cathedral well past midnight. She was grateful an elderly neighbor had agreed to baby-sit.

What could Bryan have wanted? The service was
over
. The congregation was straggling onto Fifth Avenue, humming Christmas carols and chatting.

Dorey went inside. Her eyes were drawn upward. The walls seemed to rise into the heavens. As she walked up the aisle, her footsteps rang out in the empty cathedral.

She approached the altar. A priest appeared, smiling at her.

This had to be a mistake.

Footsteps clattered behind Dorey. She turned.

Bryan was standing in the front door. He looked just as bewildered as Dorey felt.

Suddenly the organ started playing a wedding march.

Dorey jumped back, startled.

Bryan wandered up the aisle toward her, looking all around—at the organist, the stained-glass windows, the empty pews. . . . His eyes met Dorey's.

The priest walked forward. He stood in front of the altar as Bryan approached.

"Is someone getting married?" Bryan asked.

"Not that I know of," Dorey replied. "Did you arrange this?"

"No. You did."

"I did?"

"You didn't?"

Dorey shook her head. "I didn't. Did you?"

"I didn't." Bryan looked at the priest. "Father?"

The priest held up his Bible. "You're ready?"

"For what?" Dorey asked.

"To get married?" The priest raised an eyebrow in confusion.

Dorey looked at Bryan.

Bryan looked at Dorey.

The priest handed Bryan a ring.

A wedding ring.

At that moment, both Dorey and Bryan knew who had set this up.