Читать книгу A Gift For Santa - Beth Carpenter - Страница 12
ОглавлениеTwenty days till Christmas
ANOTHER DAY, ANOTHER PARTY. This one was a private birthday party. Not as profitable as the big events, but every little bit helped. Marissa grimaced as she bounced the wheel of the trailer over the curb on the turn into the parking lot, no doubt jostling the reindeer inside. Sorry, girls. She wasn’t used to driving with a trailer, but Oliver’s aid was running late and Becky had to stay until she arrived. Marissa gingerly pulled the truck and trailer along the edge of the almost-empty parking lot where they would be setting up the reindeer rides.
Across the lot, the door of an old blue truck opened. Chris. What was he doing here so early? Becky had him scheduled to arrive just in time to get dressed before the party started. After her meltdown the other day, Marissa had hoped to have Becky as a buffer the next time she faced him, but apparently not.
He walked across the parking lot. “Hi. Where’s Becky?”
“She’ll be along in a little while. Oliver’s health aid got delayed.”
“Oh.” He shifted his weight. “I, uh, I’m sorry for the other day. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“I’m fine.”
“Good. Because I—”
“So let’s just forget it, okay?”
“Okay.”
“What are you doing here so early?”
He shrugged. “Nowhere else I need to be. Besides, Sam is leaving for his rotation to the North Slope today, so I wanted to be out of the house.”
“You still live with Sam?” She’d have thought Chris would have gotten his own place by now.
Chris shrugged. “Why not? He’s been promoted to head supervising engineer at Prudhoe Bay, so he’s gone to the slope two weeks out of four, and I’m out fishing most of the summer. Why leave two places sitting empty? I might be moving soon, though.”
She smirked. “Trouble in paradise after all these years?”
“Very funny. No, it’s just getting a little crowded, now that he’s married. And since it’s his last day home for two weeks, I thought I’d give the newlyweds some privacy.” He opened the tailgate. “You need all this stuff carried in?”
“Sam is married?” She wasn’t sure why she was so surprised. Sam was a great guy, but he’d been solely focused on his career. More than one woman had tried to tie him down, with little success. Marissa wondered who had finally won him over. “What’s his wife’s name? Do I know her?”
“Dana. And no. She’s from Kansas.” He lifted the parts of the Santa throne from the truck. “She’s my sister.”
“You have a sister?” Marissa stared at him. How could she not know that? She’d almost married the man, for heaven’s sake.
“Half sister, technically.”
“She wasn’t on the guest list for the wedding.” Marissa blurted it out before she thought, instantly wishing she could recall the words. The last thing she wanted to do was talk about the wedding that never happened.
But the reference didn’t seem to faze Chris. He just kept on unloading. “Long story short, I hadn’t been in touch with my family since I left home when I was twenty-one. Dana literally showed up on my doorstep this past summer, after my father died.”
“I can’t believe you have a sister.” Marissa wasn’t sure why she found that so surprising. Chris never talked about family, seldom mentioning his life before he came to Alaska, and she’d inferred he must be estranged from his parents. But for some reason, she’d never pictured siblings. Maybe because she didn’t have any. “Any other family?”
“Only my mom. That is, my stepmother. She still lives in Kansas.”
“Is your sister older or younger?”
“Dana’s my little sister. She was sixteen when I left home.”
“And you’ve never seen her since?”
“Not until this summer. Now that we’re living in the same house, we’re seeing a lot of each other.”
Marissa tried to imagine it. “What’s she like?”
“Dana? She’s a sweetheart. You’d like her. She’s in college right now, updating her credentials. She wants to teach math.” Chris spoke about this sister he’d never mentioned with a casual fondness, like any brother talking about a younger sibling. Marissa was beginning to wonder if she’d ever known Chris at all.
“So whatever it was that made you leave your family, it’s resolved?”
“Yep.” He closed the tailgate. Marissa ached to know the rest of that story, but Chris obviously wasn’t inclined to share.
Not that it was any of her business. Not anymore. “And your sister is married to Sam, the confirmed bachelor?”
“That’s right.” He grinned. “You should see them together. It’s a little sickening.”
“Oh?”
He chuckled. “Way too much giggling and whispering. Sam goes around with this goofy grin on his face.”
Marissa thought back to the ambitious young engineer she’d known. She’d always liked Sam. She felt a certain kinship with him, since he’d lost his parents and been raised by someone else, as well. Marissa had met his auntie Ursula, and it was clear he adored her as much as Marissa adored Oliver and Becky.
She’d like to talk to him herself, to meet his wife and offer her best wishes. But she’d seen Sam only once after she broke the engagement to his best friend, and he’d been far from friendly. He wouldn’t want to talk with her now. Still... “I’m glad he’s happy.”
“Yeah. Me, too. I’ll carry this stuff in and come back for the next load, okay?”
“Sure. And when you see Sam, tell him I said congratulations.”
“Will do.”
* * *
THE NEXT DAY, Chris slept in. No use jumping out of bed. No snow meant no work and no skiing, just time to kill. If he were willing to drive up to the mountains, he might be able to find enough snow to run his snow machine, but when he’d been hauling snow the other day, conditions looked poor. He finally dragged himself into the shower and pulled on some clothes. He was almost glad when he noticed his overflowing hamper. At last, something to do.
He went upstairs and poured a cup of coffee from the pot. Another perk of having Dana around. A bouquet of red carnations on the kitchen table emitted a spicy odor that blended nicely with the scent of coffee. No sign of his sister, but if the coffeemaker was on, she must be around.
A few minutes later, a door opened and Dana came down the hall, her arms full of books and Kimmik at her heels. “Good morning.”
“Morning.” Chris took a sip of coffee. “I’m washing. Got any laundry you want to throw in?”
She dropped the books on the island and dug in the kitchen drawer for a pen. “Maybe some towels. What are you doing home?” She tucked the books and pen into a backpack.
“Nothing to do at work, and I’m not scheduled for a party until tomorrow. I gave Kenny the day off.”
“Well, if you’re looking for something to do, you could check the gate and make sure Kimmik can’t open it. And if you want to get the towels from our hamper and wash them, that would be great.”
“Sam get out okay this morning?”
Dana’s face lit up at the mention of Sam’s name. “Yes, but he’ll be home for Christmas.” She paused. “He told me about the girl you were engaged to. I’m sorry.”
Chris shrugged. “Don’t be. It was over a long time ago.”
“But it’s her family’s reindeer business you’re working for, right?”
“Yeah. Her uncle always played Santa, but he’s sick, so they need a sub. No big deal. It’s only until Christmas.”
“So there’s no chance of the two of you getting back together?” Dana shrugged into her coat. He wasn’t sure if she was hopeful or wary, but it didn’t matter. He and Marissa were over.
“None. I’ve learned my lesson.”
Dana stopped in the middle of reaching for her keys. “I’m getting together with some friends for a movie tonight. Want to come?”
“No, thanks. You have fun.”
She threw a look of concern over her shoulder on her way out the door, but finally left him in peace. He smiled and shook his head. Funny girl. When he and Dana were growing up, their mother had basically checked out, spending all her time compulsively shopping rather than nurturing her family. In spite of that, or maybe because of it, Dana had developed a strong mothering instinct. With no other outlet, she’d focused that instinct on him. Never mind he was five years older than her or that they’d been apart for nineteen years; she was convinced he couldn’t cross the street without her. Not that he really minded. It was fun having his little sister around again.
She had no reason to worry about him, at least when it came to Marissa. Chris had never had much trouble finding female companionship whenever the mood struck. He wasn’t so lonely he was likely to start mooning over the one woman he knew for sure didn’t want him. There were a dozen women he could call if he felt like a date. But he didn’t call them.
Instead, he gathered up the laundry and started a load. Then he decided to surprise Dana by vacuuming and cleaning. It was only fair. She was busy and he wasn’t. It was midafternoon when he remembered about the gate. He pulled on boots, and was reaching for his jacket when he glanced out the window to see Ryan lifting the latch and calling Kimmik outside. By the time Chris pulled on his coat and made it to the door, boy and dog were playing fetch in the cul-de-sac.
“Hey, Ryan.”
The boy looked up, eyes wide and startled, but then turned his back and threw the stick again. Kimmik ran after it and galloped back, carrying it in his mouth with his head held high.
Chris trotted over to the boy. “Ryan, you can’t just be letting the dog out of the yard without asking.”
Ryan took the stick and threw it again. “He got out. Maybe he dug a hole.”
“I saw you open the gate.”
The kid raised his chin. “Well, he’s lonely. You don’t ever play with him.”
“I do, but you’re right, not as much as he’d like. Ryan, I don’t mind you playing with the dog, but you have to ask first. You can’t just take somebody else’s dog without permission.”
“If he was my dog, I’d take good care of him. I’d play with him and brush him and feed him.” He patted Kimmik on the head and threw the stick again. “You should take better care of your dog.”
Clever way to shift the blame. Chris smiled. “Technically, he’s not my dog. He belongs to my roommate, Sam. But I think we take pretty good care of him.”
“He’s not yours?” Ryan looked him in the eye for the first time.
“No. He’s Sam’s dog.”
“Is it your house?”
“Nope. Sam’s house, too. I just live there.” Chris rubbed Kimmik’s ears and took the stick, handing it to Ryan.
The boy threw the stick and turned to him. “So are you, like, a foster kid, too?”
Chris chuckled. “Not exactly. I pay rent and help with the chores, like taking care of the dog.”
“I do chores, too.”
“Good. That shows you’re responsible.”
“Ryan?” a man’s voice called from up the street.
The kid made a face. “Homework.” He made no move to answer, instead throwing the stick again.
Brent, a neighbor from up the street, walked toward them. “Ryan, it’s time to come inside.” He looked at Chris. “Sorry. Hope he wasn’t bothering you.”
“No, he just wanted to play with the dog.” Ryan shot Chris a look of alarm, but Chris patted him on the shoulder. “I told him he was welcome to play with Kimmik anytime, as long as he comes to ask first.”
“He loves dogs. He might drive you crazy.”
“Nah, he’s fine. I’ll let Sam and Dana know he might be stopping by.”
“Thanks.” Brent grasped Ryan by the shoulders and turned him around. “But right now, you need to go inside. Sandy wants to go over your spelling words with you while the baby’s napping.”
“But Kimmik wants to play.”
“Ryan, now.”
Ryan dropped his chin onto his chest with a mighty sigh, and trudged away.
Brent stayed with Chris. “Thanks for being nice to him.”
“No problem. I like him.”
“Do you?” Brent watched the boy. “He’s a handful. Sandy and I are fostering a baby girl we’re hoping to adopt. Ryan is new to foster care. His grandmother was looking after him, but she had to go to a nursing home. Sandy heard about him and couldn’t stand the idea of him not being with a family for Christmas, so she volunteered to keep him until January. Hopefully, they can find a long-term placement for him by then.”
Chris got the impression it wouldn’t have been Brent’s idea to take Ryan, but what did he know? Either way, they were taking care of him over Christmas, so kudos to Brent and Sandy. “Congratulations on the baby. And I meant what I said. Ryan is welcome to come play with Kimmik. He’s not dangerous.”
“I know. Labradors are great with kids.”
“Yeah. So give Sandy my best wishes, too. What’s the baby’s name?”
“April. She’s six months old.” Brent pulled out his phone and started pushing buttons. Chris had been around enough new fathers to know where this was going.
“Pretty name.”
“Thanks.” Brent held out his phone. “Here she is with Sandy on the day we brought her home.”
Chris dutifully studied the picture. The infant laughed toward the camera, her eyes opened wide and framed with dark curly lashes. “She’s gorgeous,” Chris assured him, truthfully in this case. Some of the babies he’d been forced to compliment looked, well...scary. “I’d better get Kimmik in. See you around.”
Chris put the dog in the yard and carefully latched the gate. Maybe he should have told Brent about Ryan letting Kimmik out, but it sounded like the kid had enough trouble in his life. Chris had a feeling he might be seeing a lot of Ryan over the next few weeks. Or at least, Kimmik would.
* * *
“SO, LAYLA, HAVE you been a good girl this year?” Chris smiled at the pigtailed imp in his lap. Wide brown eyes looked back at him solemnly.
“Nuh-uh.”
Well, he had to give her credit for honesty, even if it meant he wasn’t sure what to do next. “No?”
She shook her head. “I’m supposed to sit still and pay attention at school, but it’s too hard.”
“Huh. What grade are you in?”
“First grade.”
He nodded. “What’s your favorite subject?”
“P.E.”
“Oh yeah? Mine, too, when I was in school. I liked basketball.”
“You went to school?”
“Of course. School is important. If I hadn’t learned to read, I wouldn’t be able to read letters or make lists. I used to have a hard time sitting still, too.”
“You did?”
“Uh-huh. But I had a trick. I’d listen to what the teacher said, and then repeat it inside my head, and wriggle my toes.”
“Your toes?” She giggled, watching his eyes as if she thought he was joking.
“Sure. You’re not supposed to wiggle your body, but if you wriggle your toes, nobody sees. And it helped me remember. Say we were doing spelling words, like c-a-t, cat. I’d wriggle my toes, right-left-right, c-a-t, and I’d remember.”
“C-a-t,” she repeated, flapping her feet.
“Good, but when you do it in school, just do your toes, not your whole feet. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Good girl. Now, I’ve got a present for you here, somewhere.” He rummaged through the stack of packages he’d been provided.
“But you only get presents if you’re good.”
“You are good. Sometimes it’s hard to behave, but you try, and that’s what matters. Here it is, a package for Layla.” He handed her a polka-dotted box. “Merry Christmas.”
“I love you, Santa.” Layla hugged the box against her chest and flashed him a bright smile before skipping away.
Chris chuckled. The things kids said. Like Ryan the other day, asking if Chris was a foster kid. It must be hard, knowing you were a temporary part of a family, that the place you were living was your home only for a while. You could never have a pet of your own if you were moving around all the time. Chris could sympathize there; he’d begged for a dog for years when he was a kid but his parents said no. The closest he ever got was a fish.
Was it wrong for Chris to encourage Ryan to form a bond with Kimmik, knowing he’d be moving elsewhere after Christmas? The kid obviously loved dogs. Anyway, if he hadn’t promised, Ryan would probably just continue sneaking Kimmik from the yard. He seemed like a strong-willed kid.
Marissa stepped forward, leading another little girl with a thick black braid. “Santa, this is Lotu.”
“Hi, Lotu.” And so it went. One child after another. Some were shy, barely able to verbalize one gift, while others had an entire spiel memorized, including a record of their good behavior. After a while, the requests tended to run together, but each child was unique, and Chris tried to give every one his full attention.
He used to wonder why Oliver would have left a well-paid desk job in order to start a reindeer farm. It must have been a risk. But now that Chris had experienced the magic for himself he was starting to understand. Watching the kids’ eyes light up when they touched real live reindeer, or the excitement on their faces when they talked to him. Christmas magic.
There wasn’t a lot of magic in the house where he’d grown up. Sure, they got presents from his parents. His mom was a compulsive shopper, after all. And she usually had some Christmas doodads scattered around the house. But nobody baked goodies or decorated a tree. Nobody set out milk and cookies for Santa, because Santa didn’t come to their house. Chris remembered feeling superior to the kids who still believed in Santa. Who would have thought he’d ever be charged with the awesome responsibility of being the jolly old man himself?
Once all the children had had a chance to talk with him, he and Marissa went outside to watch the reindeer rides. This was a mixed group from an after-school program. Some of the parents had decided to put together the Christmas party as a special treat. The kids were thrilled to get to hang out with Santa and real reindeer.
Becky and the elves had three reindeer pulling little red wagons around the brightly lit parking lot. All three elves seemed to be enjoying their jobs, including Dillon.
Near the front door, children waited for a turn. One boy jostled a girl, causing her to spill the cup of red punch she’d carried outside. Her squeals as it splashed onto her sweater and the sidewalk startled the nearest reindeer, who threw up her head. But fortunately, the elf in charge was able to control her, while Becky calmed the girl and sent her inside with a parent to clean up.
At the end of the night, Becky paid the three elves and sent them home. Chris helped Marissa load up the reindeer and pack the equipment in the truck, while Becky collected their fee. Marissa had just closed the tailgate when her aunt reappeared. She started down the sidewalk, but when her foot hit the now-frozen puddle of punch, it slid out from under her and she went down.
“Becky!” Chris rushed over and knelt beside her.
Marissa was right behind him. “Are you okay?”
Becky blinked at them for a moment. “I think so.” She sat up.
Chris put a restraining hand on her shoulder. “Just take a second. Did you hit your head?”
She rubbed the back of her skull. “No. Only my bottom.” She moved her legs and winced. “And my ankle.”
Marissa touched it gently. “We’d better get an X-ray.”
Becky hissed as she moved her foot. “No. I’m pretty sure it’s just twisted. If you can get me home, I’ll be fine.”
Despite Marissa and Chris’s best efforts to convince her, Becky refused to let them take her to the emergency room. She smiled at Marissa. “I guess you’re driving.”
“Why don’t I drive the reindeer?” Chris suggested. “And Marissa can take you home in my truck. It’s not quite as high to climb into.”
Marissa jerked her head toward him, probably about to say they didn’t need his help, but after another glance at Becky, she nodded. “That’s a good idea. Thanks.”
Chris helped Becky into the passenger seat of his truck and carefully tucked her foot onto a folded blanket. He handed the keys to Marissa. “See you there.”
He climbed into Oliver’s old dually and followed Marissa out of the parking lot, slowing down to make the turn with the trailer. The truck shuddered over the joint where the concrete met the asphalt, and Chris was doubly glad he’d volunteered his vehicle. Becky’s ankle would have felt every bump in the road with the worn-out shocks on her truck.
Forty minutes later, he swayed and bumped down the drive and pulled up outside the barn. Before unloading the reindeer, he walked back to the house, where Becky was sliding out onto her good foot. With Marissa on one side and Chris on the other, she hopped across the front yard. She stopped in front of the porch to catch her breath. A crack ran across the bottom step. Paint peeled away from the porch railings. When Becky grasped the handrail beside the stairs, it shifted. Marissa bit her lip and eyed the path to the front door.
“Let’s not stress that ankle.” Chris bent and lifted the older woman into his arms. “Marissa, could you get the door?”
Becky almost giggled. Marissa scurried ahead while Chris carefully climbed the steps and then carried Becky into the living room, setting her on her usual chair.
Oliver struggled out of his recliner. “What happened?”
“I’m fine.” Becky squeezed his hand. “It’s just a twisted ankle.”
He settled into the chair beside her without ever letting go of her hand, panting a little. For a moment, Chris thought it was panic, but soon realized it was simply the exertion from standing that had Oliver out of breath. He didn’t look good, being thinner than the last time Chris saw him, his face almost as pale as his beard.
A middle-aged woman, presumably Oliver’s health aid, pushed through the door from the kitchen. “Oh, my. What happened here?”
Becky explained briefly, while Marissa dragged an ottoman in front of her chair and plopped a pillow on top for her foot. Chris was glad to see the ankle didn’t look too swollen. It wasn’t until Becky was comfortable that Oliver finally looked up. “Chris. Thank you for your help. And for filling in for me.”
“It’s only until you’re ready to take over.” Chris shook the older man’s hand.
Oliver gave a wry smile. “I don’t quite have the energy right now. Maybe by next Christmas I’ll be back at my fighting weight.”
“I hope so. Nobody does Santa better than you.” Chris caught Marissa’s eye. “I’ll unload the reindeer and the truck while you get Becky an ice pack.”
“Thanks.” Marissa actually smiled at him. “Just put them in the corral by the barn. I’ll come out later to brush them and unload the truck.”
“I can do that. Where does it all go?”
“Inside the barn, in the storage room. I’ll be out in a little while.”
Halfway between the house and the barn, Chris stopped and turned to look around. He couldn’t see much except in the pools of light on the porch and from the floodlights on the barn, but what he saw needed work. The tidy farm he’d loved to visit ten years ago had deteriorated.
How old were Becky and Oliver now? In their late sixties? They probably should have retired a while ago, especially with Oliver’s health. Chris opened the trailer and led the first reindeer to the corral. The gate groaned. He unsnapped the lead, and the big animal wandered toward the hayrack in the middle of the pen. The top rail beside the gate had cracked in the middle, and a cluster of vicious-looking splinters protruded, fortunately toward the outside of the pen. It wouldn’t be easy to sell the farm in this condition. They needed help.
Chris had all three reindeer in the corral and most of the truck unloaded by the time Marissa arrived. She handed him his keys. “Becky’s feeling better. I think she’s right, that it’s just a twisted ankle and she’ll be fine tomorrow.” Marissa looked up at him. “She appreciates your help.”
Chris nodded and pulled out the last bundle from the truck. “How bad is it?”
“I told you, she’ll be fine.” At his searching look, she glanced down. “Oliver? It’s bad. He needs a heart transplant.”
“Wow. What kind of wait time are we talking about?”
Marissa shrugged. “It depends. He’s not high priority. Yet.”
Chris shut the tailgate and topper and nodded toward the sagging barn door. “He must have been sick for a while.”
“Apparently. They didn’t tell me anything about the heart condition until a couple of months ago.”
“But you had to have seen that the place was—”
“I wasn’t here.” She met his eyes, allowing him to read the guilt and regret there. “I haven’t been here in years. It was easier just to have them visit me, a nice winter break for them.” She looked away, but not before he saw the glint of tears. “I should have come home more often.”
She was right. But how could he judge her? He’d deserted his family and never looked back. Never even considered that they might need him. Marissa at least stayed in touch. “You’re here now.”
She nodded. “For the moment. To help them get through the party season. But then I need to go back to work.”
“You’re leaving them?”
“I have to.”
Chris’s mouth tightened. Couldn’t she see that Oliver might not have much more time? Couldn’t her precious career wait? Marissa didn’t appreciate how good she’d had it, growing up with an aunt and uncle who adored her. She owed them, big time. But what could he do? He was Marissa’s ex, not family. Not even her friend. He had no say in her decisions.
“I guess I’ll see you at the next party. Let me know if Becky needs help in the meantime.”
“Chris?” Her voice was tentative. She must sense his disapproval. Well, she should.
“Good night, Marissa. Tell them I said goodbye.”
