The Santa Society

by Kristine McCord

  I nod, my face still hidden in the fabric of his flannel coat. I’ve never been anywhere so safe and strong. Things will be okay. It’s not the end of the world. The fire will keep me warm in the living room. I have a space heater in the bathroom for showering. I have “right now” with this awesome guy. I need to find the happy parts of this story.

  I lift my head, and his arms loosen around me. I step back before I speak. “Sorry, I guess I’m just starting to expect everything to go wrong.”

  “Including me?” A shadow moves through his eyes.

  “No.” I try to smile, but I’ve just lied again. I pull my keys from my pocket and unlock the door. “Okay, that’s not completely true.”

  I push the door open, and Klaus comes barreling across the living room, nails sliding sideways. Reason follows me in, and I hear him close the door. Klaus seems torn between which of us he wants to greet first, so he stands between us both, nudging our legs and knocking his tail against the coat rack.

  “Hey, it feels warm in here.” He takes off his coat.

  I look around as though this might help me feel the temperature in the air. “You’re right.”

  I rush to the thermostat. It says 72 degrees.

  “Maybe your luck is making a turn for the better.”

  I turn. “Maybe it is.” I laugh, but it sounds nervous. I realize how melodramatic I’ve been since we pulled up out front. Nick must’ve fixed it, somehow. Maybe the company has a key to the house. After all, the chimney got serviced and I never knew that, either.

  I glance at the fireplace, feeling disappointed. He won’t need to keep it going for me anymore.

  He follows my gaze. “Fires are still very nice, though, aren’t they?” He looks surprisingly coy—a new shade of color to his many facets.

  “Yes, very cozy…and romantic.” I can’t believe I said that, but I return his smile, determined to shove the clouds away so the happy stuff stands out.

  His grin broadens. “Would you like to come to dinner at my place tonight?”

  “But I’ve never visited the Wildlands before. Is it safe?” I tease.

  “I’ll protect you. I promise.” He gives me his scouts honor. I have to admit, he’s been very true to his promises.

  “I’d love to.”

  “Make me a promise too.”

  I hesitate at his sudden seriousness. “Okay.”

  “Can you promise not to be scared?”

  I’m unsure if he refers to tonight, or something else.

  “Of me,” he adds. Sometimes it really seems like he hears my thoughts. His reddened cheeks look so earnest and sincere, like he means to protect me from everything, whether we’re in the Wildlands or standing in my living room.

  “I promise.”

  He exhales, as though he held his breath until I answered. For the first time, I wonder if he’s scared too. Out of the two of us, I’m probably the most risky-looking. I’ve been so busy thinking about what I stand to lose, it hasn’t occurred to me that he might actually be feeling the same risks. Warmth spreads through me. It starts in my chest and moves through my stomach.

  “I’ll pick you up at seven?”

  “Seven is good.”

  He turns and stumbles over Klaus as he heads for the door. I think I’ve just seen his nervous side.

  Klaus sits between us in the cab of the Dodge. On the hood, the ram’s antlers look like a beacon guiding our way. We pass the “leaving city limits” sign. Snow still covers the highway here, except for the previously traveled ruts from those that have gone before us to the Wildlands.

  It’s kind of funny that I’m a native to Christmasville and just now making my first house call to this legendary place. Most people, when they leave town, go the other direction—including me.

  I try to peer around Klaus’ rather massive presence, but I barely see Reason’s profile as he drives. It seems fitting that he lives out here. He’s a rustic man, and I’ve seen no place more rustic than this. He’s still such a mystery to me: A guy who looks like he should be fighting bad guys, not playing Santa Claus for all the local children. And yet, I must be re-envisioning Santa because now I think if I were to picture the most perfect guy, one that possesses loads of appeal and old fashioned honor, I could not fathom anyone more suited to the part than Reason MacCloud.

  I glance at myself in the side view mirror. I spent an hour trying to pick out what I would wear, which is totally unlike me. I modeled several different outfits for Klaus. He seemed to approve most of the casual look. So I’m wearing a red sweater, blue jeans, and a pair of black boots I brought back from New York.

  I have no idea how I’ll manage to style my hair for the parade tomorrow, but today I did something totally out of character: I braided it and wore a pair of small diamond stud earrings that belonged to my mother. If he likes to see my neck, he’s certainly got a view of it tonight.

  We pass the old mill and a smattering of mill houses. Soon, the snow covered landscape gives way to fields of nothing but bits of sagebrush peeking through the thick blanket of white. The moon has only just begun to wane. It glows like a giant orb in the sky, illuminating the earth below with an iridescent glow. The stark white snow makes it extra bright.

  Up ahead, I see a turn-off with a green “Private Road” sign. We slow to make the turn, and I squint to read the name: Chestnut Lane. I notice right away someone has plowed this road. In the distance, the snow-capped Rocky Mountains reach to the sky, rugged and tall. I have to admit, I missed these mountains. The view out here is way better than in Christmasville, a reminder that Earth is far more majestic than the mundane scenery of daily life. Here in the Wildlands, they stretch as far as I can see and their presence, their proximity to me, makes them seem vivid and alive.

  Klaus must feel it too. He grows more excited by the second, trying to crawl across my lap to look through my window. He must weigh a hundred and fifty pounds, I think, as he lowers himself into my lap with his snout pressed against the glass. Reason reaches over the freed up space and takes my hand. I sigh. I love the perfect fit.

  We drive about another half-mile, farther and farther into a sea of tall brush on both sides. Just as I wonder if there’s anything else out here, a cluster of tall trees looms into view ahead of us. Then, to my right, an iron archway appears, stretching across a gate covered entrance. I see the name across the top as we turn in: MacCloud. Reason rolls down his window and enters a code into the keypad. The massive gate wrenches open, and we drive through it.

  The wild grass is so tall I can’t see much, except for the treetops. Finally, a roof line juts up through the treetops. The moonlight bathes it in silver incandescence. The narrow road must be his driveway because it just stops at a square-ish ending place, in front of a metal building with a garage door. To my right, a cleared path leads farther into his land. I wonder how much acreage this is, because I’m getting the sense I’m somewhere in the middle of enough private land to equal all of Christmasville.

  “Do you own all of this?”

  “Yes...and no. The Society owns the land, but I built the house.”

  “The Society?”

  “Right.” He keeps his eyes straight ahead as he puts it in park and turns off the ignition.

  “So working for the Society is sort of a lifestyle kind of thing.”

  “Exactly.” He nods and changes the subject. “I hope you’re hungry because I cooked way too much food.”

  “I’m starved.” I return his smile.

  He climbs out and makes his way to my door. I glance at the house, which looks more like a huge cabin. The windows glow yellow in the darkness, beckoning me with warmth. A long covered porch stretches along the entire front of it then turns into a covered walkway connecting the cabin to the garage in front of me. I don’t see any stables or animals yet.

  Klaus whimpers as Reason reaches for my door handle. When it’s open, he spills through and bounds around in circles on the freshly plowed pavement. By the time my feet hit the groun
d, he’s already christened the nearby plow.

  “He seems at home here,” I say.

  “He probably smells the other animals.”

  “Ah, that makes sense.”

  He guides me to a paved path, leading to the cabin. When we reach the porch, I notice Adirondack chairs and a stack of firewood in the shadows. Our boots make pleasant thuds on the wood floor—sounds that should accompany a place like this, like I’m sure I heard on “Little House on the Prairie.”

  He opens the door, and the smell of something delicious spills out. I step inside and am only vaguely aware of the door closing behind me. I sniff the appetizing aromas and notice something underlining them. His unique scent, that incredible blend of pine and spices, surrounds me. I’m in heaven.

  “I hope you like traditional food.” He removes his boots and places them by the door, then helps me with my coat.

  “Traditional is perfect.” I sound polite and robotic as I follow his lead and take off my boots too. Klaus has run ahead of us both, breezing into Reason’s home like he lives here. I don’t even see him anymore. My nervousness grows. What if he breaks something?

  “Klaus,” I plead.

  “He’s okay, look.” Reason points through an entryway to the living area.

  I turn and see Klaus sprawled on a rug in front of the fire. His tail smacks the floor twice, but he doesn’t lift his head.

  I move my eyes around the room, taking in the entire effect. Everything has been built out of pine: the ceiling, the floors, the walls, and the furniture. Everything. I stare in amazement. I’m miles from civilization, standing in the great frontier.

  The stone fireplace reaches to the ceiling with a raised hearth. The chocolate colored sofas flank a matching recliner with its own lamp and table. I smile. He’s left a book open on it, face down, straining the spine the same way I do. On the far side of the room, he’s got his Christmas tree up. It’s decorated with clear lights and real cranberry garlands.

  My eyes move to the coffee table. It’s already arranged with a setting of plates, bowls, silverware, and two crystal goblets. I’m impressed—it rivals the North Star Inn.

  “I thought we’d eat in here, in front of the fire.” He looks at his feet.

  “Reason, this—” I look around trying to find the right words. “—it’s incredible.” My words seem so inept.

  “Thank you.”

  I walk over to the table and notice he’s put cushions on the floor.

  “I’ll be right back with dinner. There’s some wine on the table, if you’d like some. I also have cider.”

  Indeed, two small carafes await me. One with red wine and the other filled with cider. He disappears around the corner and reemerges a few seconds later, holding a large iron pot.

  “Wow, did you cook that over a fire?”

  His laughter rumbles. “No, but I thought about it.” He sets it in the center of the table before he continues. “My grandmother came from the south. She made this for me when I was a kid. I think the real name of it is “Brunswick Stew,” but she always called it “Soul Stew.” I think that’s a better name for it.”

  He removes his oven mitts. I peer inside and see an interesting stew with chunks of chicken, pulled pork, corn, tomatoes, and peas. It’s kind of an orange-brown color and smells like barbecue.

  “I’ve never served this to anyone before. I hope you’ll like it.” His shyness returns and I find it fascinating—I guess because I’m starting to think I might be the only person who sees this side of him.

  “It looks delicious.”

  He seats himself beside me and dishes our plates, before uncovering a small basket of cornbread muffins.

  He blesses the food, and moments later, I try my first spoonful of soul stew. The taste surprises me. It’s like tangy barbecue with a kick, enough to make my nose run a little. But yet, it’s a stew, which baffles me. I grab my cornbread and take a bite. It melts on my tongue with buttery sweetness. Soon, I have finished off my entire bowl and three more muffins.

  “You should sell that stew. You’d make a million.” I take a sip of wine and return it to the table.

  He looks like a little boy who’s just presented me with a report card full of A’s.

  “Come, I want to show you something.” He stands and extends a hand to me. I feel so full I think I might explode, but I get to my feet anyway. He leads me by the hand to the window at the far end of the room, near the Christmas tree. It overlooks two stables and several corrals. I can see the mountains from here, outlined in the far distance by snow and moonlight.

  Reason shifts beside me. “It’s not so bad out here, is it?”

  I gaze out over this beautiful expanse of solitude. “It’s peaceful, like sleep.”

  He stands behind me. I can see our reflection in the glass. It reminds me of earlier today, when he stood behind me in the dressing room.

  A chill moves over my arms, even though it’s not at all cold. He slips his arms around me. We stand here together looking out over God’s creation. I realize peaceful is a lame word to describe this.

  I’m suddenly filled with so many emotions. They ripple through me. The grief I’ve felt for so long, for the people I’ve lost. I realize too that I haven’t ever added new ones—until now. My mother’s house sits out there somewhere in the darkness, a gift to me. I’ve lived the life of a hermit all year, surviving off savings and the modest inheritance she left to me while segregating myself from everything that represents living. I’ve existed in the land of the dead, walking through darkness and sad, bitter memories. But in front of me—and standing right behind me—I see life and the most profound beauty.

  He squeezes me tighter. I think I would be content to never move from where I stand right now. In our reflection, his face bends low to me. He isn’t looking at the view outside when he says, “Beautiful serenity.” My skin tingles.

  I turn around slowly, unsure if I am ruining the moment. I face him and look up into those dark glittery eyes. His eyes lock with mine as I rise up on my toes. We press our foreheads together, and I close my eyes.

  I can feel him breathing, heavier than before.

  Suddenly music begins to play.

  I open my eyes and look at him, bewildered. Has he set some kind of timer? We turn. In the living room, Klaus sits near a stereo. He lowers his head as though he’s been caught piddling. He turns away and lays down with his back to us. We hear a loud snort.

  Reason laughs, a loud burst of nervous energy and enjoyment.

  “How did he do that?” I search his face. I’m laughing too, but underneath that I really want to know.

  “Maybe he bumped against the power button. Or maybe he was a DJ before he got the dog gig.”

  All at once, we’re consumed in a fit of laughter. We can’t seem to stop until finally my eyes water and my face hurts. The release leaves me breathless and exhilarated. Finally, I notice the song playing. It’s “Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire.”

  Reason pulls me closer. “He’s got good taste.”

  I giggle and we begin to sway, almost dancing. I want to bury my face in his chest and breathe him in, but I keep looking in his eyes. The light in them reminds me of a candle burning in a window—the welcome signal of home.

  Home. Magic. Miracles. A reason to stay. His words come back to me like a whisper in my ear.

  I clear my throat.“I’d like to cancel our contract.”

  Surprise flickers in his eyes. “The contract?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you firing me?”

  “I am.”

  He bites his lower lip and grins. I melt as his hand moves to the back of my neck. His warm fingers brush against my ear, and his gaze lowers to my mouth, an expression that lifts me onto my tip-toes again. I close my eyes just as his lips touch mine. The first kiss is gentle like a feather. The second takes my breath away, sending a tremor rippling through us both. The third kiss fills me with the sense I’m floating in the air, still in his arms, a
s his mouth melts into mine. I think I taste the clean crispness of peppermint. Then I realize it’s not really a flavor at all, it’s just him. Like his scent, he has his very own taste.

  When he pulls away, I’m left with an aching longing to swim in his presence—the supple silkiness of his kiss. As the place where his lips touched mine cools, I already miss him.

  He speaks to me in a soft whisper near my ear. “Thank you.”

  At first I think he’s thanked me for the kiss. Then the fuzzy haze clears from my thoughts, and suddenly I know. He thanked me for finding a reason to stay.

  Chapter 15

  AFTER REASON DROPPED me off at home, I collapsed in my bed with Klaus-the-house occupying half of it. But I remained too electrified to sleep. I gave up around 5:00 a.m. and have been pacing the house ever since. Last night burns in my heart. I keep replaying the memory over and over, squeezing every last bit of juice, before the images turn grainy and the warm sensations become harder to summon.

  I never realized before how hard it is to hold on to good memories…because I’ve never tried. The bad ones replay with involuntary vividness. I want last night’s kiss to be the same.

  Now it’s almost time for the parade. I’m already dressed and ready, except for my hair. I have no idea what I am doing. Worse, I don’t have any clips or bobby pins or even a curling iron. A person can do only so much with a rubber band. I stare at myself in the mirror, feeling at a total loss.

  As I let go of my hair and watch it fall again, I picture my mother with her hair pulled up in all the many ways she liked to wear it. I bet she has something I can use.

  I rush down the hall and throw open the door. Everything remains exactly where she left it. I’ve only been in here once since she passed away—yesterday, to borrow the earrings.

  I turn on the light, not sure where to look first. I scan the cluttered room of furniture, all of it loaded with drawers. It could be anywhere.

  I turn to the chest of drawers first and start at the top, pulling them out and shoving them closed again. I find only neat stacks of clothing. I reach the bottom and see her nightgowns. I close it. I can still remember seeing her wear them. My throat tightens.