He smiled as the little girl snuggled deeper into the crook of his arm. He glanced at the clock and groaned inwardly. Her mother would give him hell in the morning if he didn't get her to bed soon. But as he looked down upon the angelic face he just didn't have the heart to move her.

He studied her auburn locks as they curled around her face, some standing straight up on the top of her small head. The way her long, thick eyelashes fell over lily white cheeks; the way her perfect rosebud lips puckered as she stirred.

She was, by far, the greatest gift he had ever received and he cherished unhurried moments like this, when he could just enjoy her existence. As his eyes moved back to the Christmas tree that sparkled with years of family history and colored lights, he heard the grandfather clock chime midnight.

"Daddy?"

He looked down and smiled. "Now what are you doing awake at midnight on Christmas Eve?"

She yawned and stretched. "I wanted to catch Santa Claus."

He chuckled. "Catch him? In a net?"

"No," she giggled sleepily, rising to a sitting position next to him. "To tell him something."

"Ah, I see," he nodded reverently.

"Daddy?"

"Mmhm?"

"What's your Christmas wish?"

"My Christmas wish?"

"Uh-huh," she nodded, her little face perfectly serious. "If you could have anything in this world, what would it be?"

"Time, princess," he said without hesitation, drawing her into a tight hug. "More time to be with you and Mommy."

"Because of your job?"

"Yeah," he nodded, pulling her away from him so he could look into her bright green eyes. "It seems every Christmas it takes me away from you, no matter how hard I wish for it not to be true."

"Daddy, if I catch Santa, I'll make sure he knows that's your wish."

He pulled her into another hug. "You do that, princess," he said softly into her hair. "Now you'd better get to bed before Mommy sends us both to our rooms!"

She laughed. "But your room is Mommy's room!"

He cocked an eyebrow. "Would you want to be in Mommy's room if she was mad at you?"

She thought about that a moment, her small index finger tapping at her chin. "Good point," she said and they laughed as he tickled her ribs.

"Off you go, angel. I'll see you Christmas morning."

She turned to leave, then stopped and looked back at him. "Will you, Daddy? Will you really this time?"

"I hope so," he whispered, waggling his fingers at her. He leaned back into the couch cushions as she made her way out of the living room into the hall, and stared into the tree. "I really hope so."

Sleepy eyes blinked open as the first rays of sunlight streamed through the blinds of a huge window. She blinked, then got a big smile on her face. "It's Christmas!" she cried, struggling out from under her sheets and racing to her bedroom door. She went right to her parents' room. The door opened and her face fell. Only her mommy was in bed. Daddy was nowhere to be seen.

She looked to the spot at the foot of his bed where his boots were kept. They weren't there, and she knew…neither was he.

Shaking the disappointment off, in a flash she was down the stairs, through the hall and skidding to a halt right next to the gigantic Christmas tree. She thought for sure everyone would be in the living room. But everyone wasn't; there was only one other person there. The little girl stared and stared.

On one knee he was, busily putting brightly wrapped Christmas gifts into place beneath the fragrant tree. He was humming a tune and it was only when he turned to a large red bag that sat to his left, the man realized he had company.

"Oh! Oh, my!"

Her eyes were large and round, her mouth hanging open as she stared.

"Well, hello, Melinda. What are you doing up so early?"

"Are you…Santa?" she squeaked.

He rose to his feet, giving her a "Ho ho ho!" as his belly shook. His eyes twinkled as touched the side of his nose. "You've caught me!"

Melinda squealed with delight and gave a running jump. He caught her easily and they enveloped each other in a hug. "Oh, Santa, I knew I'd catch you this year. I just knew it."

"Well, now, little one, I have a few extra seconds before I have to move along to the next house. Why don't we sit and you can tell me what it is you want most." She nodded happily, little curls bouncing everywhere. He made his way to the nearby piano bench and seated himself, bringing her down to sit on his knee. "Now, Melinda, if I'm not mistaken you're four years and five months old, isn't that right?"

"You do know everything!" she breathed, eyes wide.

"Ho ho ho, of course I do! And if I'm also not mistaken, you've been an absolutely sweet little angel for your mommy and daddy this year, haven't you?"

"Well, I have to be sweet," she said, face completely straight. "That is, after all, what my name means, sir."

"Ohhhh, yes, of course it does, you're right about that. Well, since you've lived up to your end of the bargain, what say we find out if I can live up to mine?"

"Okay," she replied. "But what I want I'm not sure you have in your big red toy sack, Santa Claus."

"Try me."

She leaned very close, so their noses were nearly touching as he bent his head forward to hear her. "What I want very much most of all this year, is for my daddy to be home today, Christmas Day, instead of away like he always is."

His head moved back and he looked into her eyes.

"And Santa, that's my daddy's Christmas wish too. I know because he told it to me last night when we sat right there on the couch."

"Is it now?" he asked, leaning back and stroking his beard a few times. She nodded vigorously in response and he looked first at the beautiful tree and then back to her. "I'm going to tell you a secret, Melinda. It's a secret not very many people know. In fact, I'm not sure anyone but your daddy knows it right now at this very minute."

She swallowed hard, expectant eyes searching his.

"Right now, at this very moment, there's a little girl almost exactly your age," he began. "Only her hair is blonde and her eyes are brown. She's about the same height as you and her name begins with the same letter yours does."

"An M?"

He nodded. "That's right. Her name is Michelle, only her daddy calls her Shelly."

She brightened. "Well, sometimes my daddy calls me Melly!"

He chuckled. "All daddies have nicknames for their little princesses. But little Shelly doesn't have what you have here in this warm, bright, wonderful home."

"She doesn't?"

"No, she doesn't," he shook her head. "Shelly's daddy lost his job several months ago, and her family is very poor. She won't have any toys to unwrap or any food on her table tonight."

"Oh, Santa, can't you do something? Won't you bring her food or a toy in your sleigh?"

"My sweet little Melinda," he said, giving her a squeeze. "I'll do everything I can, of course. But the thing little Shelly wants most of all is the same thing you want."

"To be with her daddy."

"That's right," he nodded. "But right now at this very second she's in danger of never seeing her daddy ever again."

"Why?"

"Because he's in a very dangerous situation."

"Is he going to die?" she asked, tears welling up in her eyes as her own father came to mind.

"Well, he would have, Melinda. He would have, but someone has saved him."

"They did? Who, Santa? Who saved Shelly's daddy?"

Santa smiled. "Why, your daddy, Melinda. Your daddy saved Shelly's daddy."

"He did?"

"Yes. So now even though on Christmas Day Shelly won't have a big feast or a lot of presents or even a Christmas tree, she'll have the one thing she wants most of all."

"Her daddy," Melinda breathed. "Just like I want mine."

"Exactly. Now, I know it's awfully hard for you to have your daddy gone so much, and sometimes for many days at a time. But remember that if your daddy hadn't gone out early this morning, on Christmas morning, a little girl just like you would never be seeing her father ever again."

Two tiny tears rolled down her baby chub cheeks. "I'm so proud of my daddy."

"As well you should be, angel," Santa said, wiping her tears with his gloved thumbs. "He saves lives, and when people are going to need him most isn't something he can plan for. I happen to know for a fact he'd like nothing more than to be here all day long with you. But his job is to make sure other families get to keep their loved ones with them."

"Thank you, Santa," she mumbled into his beard as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Thank you."

"Ho ho ho!" he laughed, rising and placing her gently on the floor. "Now you'd better scurry back to your bed or your mommy's going to think you never got there to begin with!"

"And she'll get mad at Daddy!" Melinda cried. "Oh, no!"

He laughed heartily and waved as she ran out of the living room. Then he turned and finished emptying the red sack of its burden until the space beneath the Christmas tree was overflowing.

"That was beautiful, what you did," came a woman's voice from behind him.

Santa turned and rose to his feet. He smiled. "It's the least an old man can do for a girl as precious as that one is. Now, you'd better go get her or she'll be bouncing off the walls in about thirty seconds waiting to tell you all about it."

The woman's long, auburn hair was pulled into a pony tail on the back of her head. Her green bathrobe matched her sparkling green eyes as she walked forward and gave Santa a big hug. "Thanks Dad," she whispered.

He winked, picked up the empty toy sack and headed out the balcony doors. In a flash he'd disappeared. She turned to head to Melinda's room and just about choked on her own breath.

Walking out of the hallway into the living room opposite the balcony doors was a man with salt-and-pepper hair holding a mug of coffee in one hand and a newspaper in the other. He stopped short when he saw the look on her face. "Jena?" he said. "What's the matter, you look as though you've seen a ghost!"

"Dad?" she squeaked, turning to look back toward the balcony doors, then at him, then the doors, then at him again. The color drained from her face. "It can't be, you were just—I mean, he was—I mean, you—he…oh, my God!"

She took off down the hallway as he stared after her, shaking his head. "Women," he breathed as he headed to his desk.

He smiled as the little girl snuggled deeper into the crook of his arm. He glanced at the clock and groaned inwardly. Her mother would give him hell in the morning if he didn't get her to bed soon. But as he looked down upon the angelic face he just didn't have the heart to move her.

Looking back up at the tree, he was glad, at least, that he'd made it back before Christmas Day was completely over. Not by much, but still and all he'd been able to watch his little girl open the gifts he'd bought her, and he'd been beyond delighted to open the little round one from her. It was plaster caste of her perfect little hand, painted pale pink and with her name scratched into it along with the year. It had been heat-sealed and shined, and a pink ribbon was wound through the hole in the top so he could hang it on the wall.

He squeezed her tightly to him and watched as her eyes blinked open. "Daddy," she smiled. "I'm so glad you're here."

"Me too, princess."

"You know, Daddy, I caught Santa after all."

"Oh, really?"

"Mmhm."

"Yes, Mommy told me she could hardly believe it, but that Santa Claus really was here, because she saw him too!"

"She did?" she asked, sitting bolt upright. "Oh, Daddy, he didn't tell her my secret wish, did he?"

"Oh, I doubt it," he replied seriously. "After all, Santa doesn't go around telling all the children's secret wishes, otherwise they wouldn't be secrets anymore!"

"I suppose so," she replied, lost in thought. "I told him your Christmas wish, Daddy."

"You did? What was that, baby?"

"Don't you remember you told me? That you could be home on Christmas Day."

His face fell. "Well, it looks like that's another wish that didn't come true."

"But it did, Daddy! You are home on Christmas Day!"

He smiled. "I suppose you're right. I am, at that."

"Santa Claus also told me why you can't always be home, especially on Christmas."

"Oh, he did, did he?" the man said with a grin.

She nodded. "Oh, yes. Today it was because you had to save Shelly's daddy."

His eyes widened and his jaw dropped. "Melinda, how…how could you possibly have known-?"

"I told you," she pouted, crawling into his lap and snuggling into his chest. "Santa Claus told me."

He leaned back into the couch, disbelief showing on his face. "I thought Grandpa was your Santa."

"Oh, Daddy," she gave an exaggerated sigh. "Don't you think I know the difference between Grandpa and the real Santa Claus?"

He chuckled. "You're way too smart for your age," he said, running his fingers through her hair.

"I didn't really understand why you had to be gone so much until he explained it to me," Melinda whispered as her eyelids fluttered closed. "And I want to tell you, Daddy, that I understand now."

"You do?"

She nodded as he eyes closed completely. "I do. And I'm really, really proud that my daddy is Scott Tracy."

The Christmas tree lights reflected off the wetness in his eyes. He bowed his head and kissed the top of hers. "Thank you, Melly," he said softly. Then he looked at the lone Santa decoration near the top of the tree. "And thank you."