by Angela Drake
“Mom, we’re hungry.” Kimberly bound into the kitchen, Max running along behind.
“Why don’t you fix a peanut butter sandwich and some milk? That’ll hold you till everyone gets here. Then we’ll order pizza. We’re going to get the dining room ready.”
“Okay.”
She looked from Kimberly to Jennifer, noticing for the first time how strong a resemblance there was between the two. How long would it be before he noticed? The time would come when she would have to tell him the secret she’d kept for years.
Chapter 4
The grizzled old man stood at the far length of the rough-hewn oak table. Cottony gray hair encircled his head like a silver halo, the length of it falling unevenly just below his ears. Crystal blue eyes twinkled with pride and merriment in his weathered, leather-tan face. Sparse sideburns made their way down either side of his face, spreading to a full Brillo beard, trailing unevenly to his chest. Dressed in a worn blue flannel shirt and overalls, Whiskers Dan looked every bit the part of Ozarks history.
A kind soul of seventy, he lived in a cabin nestled in a draw above Beaver Lake. A simple four room log structure, it looked the same as it had the day his Pa had finished building their home. That was the fall before Whiskers was born.
Now the old man came into town every day, tools in a little cart in his truck. He pulled the cart around town, spending the day doing handyman repairs for the locals. During the tourist season he spent a lot of time in Basin Park entertaining passersby with his woodwork or a story.
He spent much of his time at the cabin working on projects such as the many toys he created for the Santa Club. A sampling of those he now lovingly showed the group of students gathered in the dining room.
Each toy was made of pine, modeled after ones he’d either played with as a child or designed himself. Every car, truck and doll cradle had the year burned into the bottom as well as his signature ‘Whiskers”. The toys were a treasure. Stephanie’s eyes misted slightly knowing the joy each held for the children. His vision and talent were immeasurable, just as the love he carved into each toy. He truly was Santa Claus.
The five high school girls admired the intricate carving of the cradles and doll chairs. “Vroom, vroom” and “choo, choo” resounded from their four male classmates as they pushed the racecars or train engines across the tabletop. The magic he carved into each toy infected children of any age.
“Hey, Miss Stephanie.” Alan, the founding member of the toy division called to her from the far side of the room. “Do you think we have enough cradles? Mrs. McCall said the girl count is up this year.”
“We have plenty, Alan. Although we do have more girls, not all will ask for dolls or require cradles.”
Mrs. McCall was the secretary at the grade school. As a Santa Club member, it was her job to provide the committee with tentative numbers for Santa visits. Through class registrations and screenings, she was able to provide the Santa Club with invaluable information. Those numbers helped ensure that no child went without at least one gift at Christmas.
“Have you guys set a date to get the painting done and recruited elves?” Stephanie walked around the table, admiring some of the toys.
“Yeah. There’s a family day scheduled for the first Saturday in November.” One of the girls answered. “The Pep Squad’s going to baby-sit in the school gym while the older kids and parents take over the shop department.”
“Great. What about lunch? It’s an all-day affair.”
“Covered.” Alan popped up. “The Booster Club is providing chili and stuff. Hey speaking of food, where’s the pizza?”
As if on cue, footsteps sounded on the pine steps leading to the porch. The tingling of the bell on the door announced their visitor.
“Anyone order pizza?” Brendan, laden with several pizza boxes balanced in one hand and a case of sodas in the other, entered the hallway.
Everyone turned to stare at the new delivery man. Stephanie giggled as she looked from one astonished face around the table to another. The boys were speechless as they looked at Brendan then to her questioningly. She wasn’t sure if the girls needed bibs or smelling salts.
“Dad, how’d you get the pizzas?” Jennifer came around the table to take the boxes.
“I’d stopped in for supper when I overheard the manager yell for delivery. He said something about getting these to the Santa Club meeting. I checked the name on the ticket while I was standing there then persuaded the manager to let me deliver them. Had to tip the regular delivery boy very well, I might add.”
The room became a flourish of new activity. Someone cleared a space on the sideboard for the pizzas. Stephanie went into the kitchen for glasses of ice. Brendan pulled the chair with Max’s booster seat up to the table before putting the boy in and buckling him safely. Kimberly got paper plates and napkins around to everyone.
Stephanie watched her daughter hold two plates, putting pizza on each and taking one to Brendan. He smiled as he said something and Kimberly laughed. They moved off to sit in the window seat, sitting mirror fashion, munching on the pizza.
It appeared to Stephanie that they were having a contest. As she watched, each of them in turn took a bite, pulling the slice away to see how far the cheese would string before breaking. She recalled a similar game she’d played with Brendan a long time ago. Those contests always ended in one retrieving the broken strands seductively from the other’s chin, their pizza abandoned for other adventures.
Brendan chose that moment to look her direction. He stilled momentarily before popping the last bite into his mouth. Had he remembered too? She doubted it. Chances are it was one of the many moments they shared that only she would recall. Max’s napkin fluttered to the floor. Picking it up, she wiped the sauce from the tip of his nose.
“I noticed you haven’t fixed a plate yet.” Brendan’s husky voice dusted against her neck. She turned to find herself in very close proximity to her constant distraction. The man was stealth like a lion stalking its prey.
“I…I’m not hungry.” Her mouth felt dry and her tongue entirely too large. Chewing food would be impossible at best. Anxiously, she glanced around to see if anyone noticed her position. Whiskers shot her a toothy grin and winked.
She sidestepped Brendan in an attempt to breathe. What a scene they must present for the youth around the table. This was not the time or the place for a make-out session. And Lord how she’d enjoy that--maybe too much.
“Dad.” Jennifer tapped him on the shoulder. “The boys want to show you the handiwork before they pack up everything.”
“Oh, okay sweetheart.” Turning to Stephanie he added, “I’ll be back.” She took it as a warning.
As Brendan made his way across to Whiskers and the students, she became all too aware of the crowded dining room. His sauntering movement suddenly made the air seem very warm.
“It’s written all over your face Steph.”
“What?” She struggled not to fan herself. It was October – not warm at all, yet it felt like July.
“That you still love my father. It’s okay Steph.”
“Seeing your dad again has brought back a lot of memories.”
She looked past Jennifer to Brendan. Picking up one of the racecars, he turned it over and around in his large hands. Her heart quickened, remembering the ecstasy those hands evoked.
They were the hands of an artist and when it came to lovemaking, Brendan was a Picasso. She shut her eyes briefly against the direction her thoughts traveled. When she opened them again, she still continued to watch him.
As he examined the detailing, spinning the wheels with his fingers, Brendan talked with Whiskers and the students. He said something and Whiskers nodded, pointing to the underside of the car.
“Maybe they aren’t just memories Steph.” Jen continued to stand behind her.
“That’s all they can be.”
Even with knowing that truth, she still felt her insides turn to jelly whenever he was near. Over the years
she’d been able to put her feelings for him aside, like mementos in a box on a shelf. But in reaching for a new start, she’d brought the box and all its memories tumbling around her.
Soon she’d have to deal with the mess. He’d been tucked away in the recesses of her mind for so many years. Seeing the actual vision stride toward her now reminded her of an old Billy Ray tune. Her heart and reality were two different entities.
“Quite a group.” Brendan glanced back over his shoulder. “These kids are really on top of things. Whiskers said he enjoys working with them.”
“They’re very good at this. We’re only into our third year.” She smiled fondly at the young people filling the small dining room.
One of the older boys, Alan, was the star center for the basketball team and the coordinator for this task force. Within days of the mission statement hitting the local paper, volunteers appeared from everywhere. He’d been the first student.
She learned later that his home life hadn’t been very stable over the years. She felt he might have been one of those kids who’d not been able to enjoy the benefits of the Santa Club.
That might explain why this shy, athletic youth poured his heart into the project. And he knew which of his classmates was capable of the same. He’d chosen well and she praised him and the rest of the group many times for their hard work and dedication.
Jennifer joined them as the teenagers began to slide the chairs away from the table and help him pack the toys away.
“I think I’ll head home, Dad. The others are starting to leave as well. Do you want some help cleaning up?”
“Go on ahead sweetheart. I’ll give her a hand.”
“That’s okay. Kimberly and I can get it.” Stephanie couldn’t keep the urgency from her voice. She’d had a long, emotional day. The last thing she wanted was to be alone with him again. “There isn’t much cleanup to paper plates and empty pizza boxes. You guys don’t need to stay.”
“Nonsense. I carried it in, I’ll carry it out.”
“Then I’m leaving.” Leaning forward, Jennifer kissed her dad on the cheek then hugged Stephanie. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
The rest of the group left as well, calling goodnights and thanking Brendan for the pizza.
In an unspoken routine, the remaining three each took on a task. Kimberly gathered glasses for the dishwasher; Brendan got a trash bag from the kitchen and made the rounds picking up the remains of the party. Stephanie gently lifted Max, now dosing into his shoulder, from his seat. Mindless of the cheesy sauce around his mouth and on the front of his shirt, she nestled him against her and carried him upstairs.
Taking a warm washcloth to his face and fingers, she wiped away the immediate remains of dinner before carefully undressing the sleeping child. Kissing him on the brow and laying him down on his toddler bed, she tucked the covers gently around her mini-Matthew. She heard the door to her daughter’s room click shut. She’d enjoyed tonight. Kimberly missed the teasing and fun she’d had with Matthew. They both did. Tonight, for the first time since that last vacation, Kimberly seemed like her old self. For that much, Stephanie was thankful for Brendan’s presence.
* * *
Brendan carried the trash to the bin out back then came into the kitchen. A wicker basket of assorted teas sat on the kitchen table. Perhaps a cup of tea would prolong the evening with Stephanie. The thought prompted him to fill the tea kettle and set it back on the stove to heat.
He noticed several things about her tonight that he thought had been lost from his memory bank. Her love for children was still very evident. She had often talked about wanting to be a mother. He also vaguely remembered her fear of not being able to have children. Now she had two. He could picture her as a little girl bringing home every stray on the block and he grinned at the thought. He’d been a stray of sorts. With no one lady in his life he’d gone from bed to bed. Yet he’d always come back to the one gentle hand.
He also remembered how organized she seemed. The first time she’d cleaned the house; he hadn’t found anything without her help for weeks. Her cleaning spree had driven him crazy but also came to be one of the things he appreciated as well. She was capable of handling anything that came her way. The high school group tonight respected her.
She’d chosen the perfect place to raise her kids. A clean, wholesome town with strong moral values without restricting a child’s growth, Eureka Springs emulated another time in history.
Kimberly, he thought with a bemused shake of his head. So much like her mother. She possessed Stephanie’s passion for everything she did. The devotion to the Santa Club and to her baby brother amazed him for a girl her age. Most teenagers he had met cared only for themselves, bordering on rude. She, on the other hand, seemed polite and always willing to help.
There was something else about her, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Something seemed very familiar, yet he was sure he’d never seen her before; he’d not been around since Stephanie’s wedding.
While waiting for the teakettle whistle, he searched for mugs and spoons. Selecting a soothing Chamomile for Steph and a spice blend for himself, he placed the tea bags in the cups and had just poured the water when she came in.
“Thought you’d like something to help you wind down.” He handed her a mug. She had changed clothes. He surveyed slender legs in molded denim and admired the bulkiness of the sweatshirt. He’d bet his latest platinum album she wore nothing underneath. Confirming the wager, he detected a gentle sway as she leaned across the table for the honey crock. His hands itched to touch what he could only assume. Instead, he busied himself spooning sugar into his own tea.
“I hope Chamomile was okay?”
She nodded briefly before taking a tentative sip of the tea.
“Shall we sit out on the porch? It’s a beautiful evening.”
In reply she turned and went back down the hall. He followed, reaching past her just as they got to the screen door, pushing it open for her.
The warm, autumn breeze tousled her hair slightly, sending off a soft floral scent. Something stirred within him. A memory of snuggled warmth against an early morning chill with his face buried lightly in the back of her hair, rose to the surface. He shook his head at yet another part of his past he thought had drowned in the booze.
She settled into the white rocker, leaving him no other choice but the matching love seat. Love seats were for two people, not one. To combat the loneliness it evoked, he stretched across the seat, taking up as much room as possible. Drinking his tea, he watched her, waiting for her to say something, anything. Instead, she sat in silence, gazing off across the yard.
He knew he should be grateful she hadn’t refused the tea or the request for him to sit a while. But the truth was he wanted more from her. Wasn’t that a switch? There’d been a time when she had wanted more of him than he was ready to give. Why expect any different from her now? He needed to breach the silence, get her talking. He ventured on what he thought a safe topic to open the conversation.
“How’d you come by Whisker Dan?”
“Jennifer told me about him. He’s done repair work at the hotel and often provides toys for children of holiday guests. The old guy’s spent his entire life in these hills.” She moved the rocker lazily back and forth. “Story has it his great great grandpa’s the hand behind most of the cut work of this town. He keeps the repairs up on what is left.”
She turned to point out something above the bay window and his heart skipped its rhythm. She looked so serene. Was it because she wasn’t looking at him?
“See that header trim.”
Brendan tore his gaze from her face to look at where she pointed. The porch light illuminated a carved design of a sun setting behind rolling hills, the tendril rays appearing to fold into themselves, tucking away another passing day.
“It’s very beautiful,”
“Like every other bit of carving, latticework, and gingerbread trim around here. Most of it done by his ancestors and car
ed for by all the generations that followed.”
He stood and leaned against a support post. Whether to hear her better or just be closer to her, he wasn’t sure. He fought the impulse to touch her. A strong desire to apply hungry, demanding kisses to her full lips was almost too much for his self-control. To distract his hands, he took a stick of gum from his pocket and unwrapped it. Slowly he broke the gum into small pieces, putting them in his mouth one at a time.
“That’s the kind of love I wanted these kids to feel on Christmas morning.” Her voice reverberated with emotion. “We could have shopped for factory built toys like every other kid will get. But that’s not what we saw.”
“What do you mean?”
“Santa Club isn’t just about giving dolls and trucks.” Stephanie sat her cup on the small patio table then walked over to stand against the porch railing next to him. Her nearness drew him like a magnet. Gently he reached out, catching a strand of hair, twirling it around his finger. She made no attempt to break the contact, as her voice became almost a whisper.
“It’s the memories, love, and hope. We want them to know if only for one day that they haven’t been forgotten.” She looked up at Brendan and he thought he’d melt in that moment. The conviction in her voice compelled him to take every word in, to make her cause his.
“Our hope is that as they get older, they’ll remember a special Christmas morning in their life and share that joy with another child in some way.”
Listening to her, he felt a tingle run the length of his spine and an uneven beat to his heart. The woman truly was an angel. An angel he didn’t deserve at this moment. But he would in time.
“Thanks for being here this evening. You don’t know what your impromptu visit meant to Kimberly.”
