The Santa Society

by Kristine McCord

  The deer stamps a foot and sniffs again. He raises his upper lip so high his nostrils shift out and flare, revealing a large view of his yellowed buck teeth.

  “What’s the matter Dancer? You don’t like it?” Reason laughs.

  The deer lowers his head and raises it high. Then promptly turns in the stall, so that his rear end faces Reason.

  The men erupt in peals of laughter. I’m giggling so hard I think I’ve snorted. Reason turns to me as though he’s offended. “You think that’s funny, do you?”

  I nod and continue laughing. The look on his face sends me into hysterics. My sides begin to ache as I gasp for breath.

  “That’s it.” He grabs me and lifts me up over his shoulder.

  “What are you doing?” I squeal and swat at his back with my palm.

  “Giving you a peppermint bath.”

  “You wouldn’t!” I try to gasp, and discover that a gasp is almost impossible upside down. I snort again as my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth partially blocking my airway.

  I hear Reason laugh harder as the men cheer him on. He starts walking, and I realize he may be serious. “Reason MacCloud, you put me down right now!”

  “I won’t do it.” I hear from above me.

  The floor moves underneath my head as I see the shower stalls approaching. But then we pass them. “Where are we going? I don’t need a bath.”

  He carries me into a separate room, where sawdust covers the floor. Suddenly, he slides me from his shoulder. As the room reverses into normal position, he sets me on top of a table like a doll. His strength still astounds me. And thankfully, I’m not in a shower stall.

  He turns and closes the door. On the other side of it I hear hoots and wolf calls as he faces me and takes a step forward, leaning in just inches from face. His grin looks so uncharacteristically devilish, I shiver.

  The hoots and hollers continue outside. Finally, it occurs to me. The men think he brought me in here to ravage me. Heat rises in my cheeks. Then, another thought comes to me—did he?

  “Don’t let them get to you. They’re just playing around. They know better.”

  I sigh, unsure if I’m relieved or disappointed. “What’s that supposed to mean? Am I not a ravage-able looking woman?”

  “Mmm. You are definitely ravage-able.” He leans in for a kiss. His lips graze mine with the velvety wetness of warm butter, lingering just long enough to be more than I can take. Then he pulls back. “But they know I won't ravage you until our wedding night.”

  My heart turns a somersault in my chest.

  “I wanted to show you something.” He grins, obviously enjoying that I’m melting in front of him.

  He turns and tugs at a white sheet covering something tall near the opposite wall. “What do think?”

  The cloth falls away, exposing the perfect face of my mother’s angel. The black stains in the enamel have vanished, and the paint shines. Not just on her mouth, but her entire face. She looks brand new. Tears instantly blur my eyes, turning her face into a hazy alabaster silhouette.

  “She’s beautiful.” My throat tightens. I blink and the tears spill out so that her face becomes clear again. I touch her singing mouth and run my hand over her cheek.

  I turn back to him, overwhelmed and unable to speak. Could I ask for anything more? How surprised my mother would be to see what’s grown from her last wishes—somehow, in some unexplainable way. I throw my arms around him. Like I wanted to do the day he gave Callie the gift card at the soup kitchen. Now, he’s mine, and I love that I can. I kiss him with all the joy that wells in my heart, the longing for him that grows bigger each day.

  I have to force myself to pull back, and when I do we only stare at each other with our foreheads pressed together until our breathing steadies and our surroundings creep back into our senses.

  “So you like the angel?” He whispers.

  “She’s beautiful like the day my dad first gave her to my mom. Thank you.”

  The flush in his cheeks deepens. For the first time in years, I feel myself filling with excitement about Christmas.

  When we return to the shower room a few seconds later, the men are lathering up Dancer. His rear end still points out of the stall, only now there is a rather large suds sculpture of a Santa Claus beard hanging on his rump.

  Chapter 29

  REASON CARRIES OUT THE LAST box of clothing. The top hasn't been taped yet, and I see the sleeve of my mother’s red wool coat peeking through the opening as it disappears out the door.

  Things at the ranch have been running smoothly. So well, in fact, that Reason took the day off to help me clean up the mess Brice left when he ransacked my house. Once we got started, though, I decided it was a good time to get rid of some things too. I’ve managed to part with a lot more of my mother’s things than I expected. Although I cried at first, I have to admit I feel a weight lifted from me. It’ll be easier to remember her being alive without so many personal items to remind me she won’t ever use them again.

  I’ve put all the photos and keepsakes in storage boxes in the attic. Everything else I’m donating, except her Bible, Christmas books, and knitting projects. I plan to finish the latter just as soon as I learn to knit. I’ve even gone through the Christmas room, only keeping things that have special meaning to me. The rest have all been loaded in Reason’s truck. But I know I don't want her things sold, I want them given to people who need them.

  Reason steps back through the door.

  I look up at him from the china hutch drawer, where I’ve just found an extra pair of glasses. “So…where do you want to take everything?”

  “I thought we could take it to Hannah. She keeps a list of local contacts for stuff like this—shelters and ministries.” He smiles, but I notice his shoulders slouch as he moves toward the sofa.

  “Okay, good.” I rummage in the drawer and pull out a few more things: an old cell phone, a pair of gloves, and a rosary. I’ll definitely keep the rosary, but I drop the other things in a bag.

  My thoughts stray. I steal a peek at Reason. He’s closed his eyes with his head leaned back. I lay the bag on the hutch and walk over to sit beside him. “Are you okay?”

  He doesn’t open his eyes at first. “Yeah,” he pauses and lifts his head to look at me. “I’m just thinking about Hannah and Ives and the others. If Cassius doesn’t fix this—if I carry Christmas on my own—I don’t know, I just don’t know.”

  I study the shadows of worry in his face. Through everything, he’s been the one who’s always managed to believe everything will be okay. Seeing him falter unsettles me. “You’re worried about what will happen to them if the Society falls apart?”

  “I thought how sad it will be to not have Hannah and Ives anymore. What if there’s something I’m not seeing? Saving this Christmas seems like the right thing to do, but how many people will it hurt? ”

  I take his hand as I scoot in next to him. He tries to smile, but I can see it’s an effort.

  “Reason, you always tell me the Gift knows what people need, that you just have to believe and seek what’s right.”

  He doesn’t answer right away. The hesitation makes me uneasy. “What if my reasons aren’t all pure? I keep thinking about that. I think they are, but what if I’m too subjective. In the end I’m only a man. I can get it wrong.”

  I’m not sure if I want to hear these things. I want to comfort him, but I admit the whole I’m-not-so-sure-thing throws me off balance. I’ve relied on him so much, his strength, his vision, and his faith. The thought that he could doubt it himself sends a shiver through me. I’m not even sure what to say, but I sense he needs me right now. I push forward, trying to trust that my words will come out right.

  “As your wise woman, I must remind you, Reason MacCloud, that you are Father Christmas. You have a duty to carry the Gift, whatever the price. An infant came into the world with the exact same mission. He fulfilled it. As a descendent of the men who first honored him, it’s your duty to remember that�
�and every year to carry the message of his birth by reminding the world of his miracles.”

  He sits up straight, looking at me as though I’ve grown another head.

  “Did I say something wrong?” I think back through my words.

  He shakes his head rapidly. I think his face has even paled.

  “Then what’s wrong?” I insist.

  “Your words just now... It’s my oath to the Office—word for word.” He blinks at me with wonder and begins to recite: “It is my duty to carry the Gift to the world, whatever the price. I do so in remembrance of the infant Christ who carried upon his tiny shoulders a staggering mission for one so small. As a descendant of the wise men of old who came bearing gifts to welcome his light into the world, it is my duty in all that I do, to celebrate the message of his birth by reminding the world of his miracle of faith.”

  I gape at him. Of all the many times I’ve felt lost for words, none have been as profound as now. Goosebumps spread over my entire body as if an electrical current has passed through me.

  He grabs my hands in his own and moves closer to me. “Erin, daughter of Adelaide.” He pauses to bite his lower lip. “You are a wise woman.” He brings my hands to his lips and kisses my fingers one by one, sending shivers up my arms. “Thank you for reminding me.” He presses my hand to his face and closes his eyes.

  I melt in beside him and gaze at the Christmas tree with the paper star he made for the top. A spontaneous smile moves over my face, and I close my eyes, praying I’ll always be wise when he needs me. Fortunately, that probably won’t be needed very often.

  I’m not sure how much time has passed that we’ve sat together like this, but a knock at the door breaks us from our reverie. The only house guest I ever have is Reason.

  I scramble to my feet and go to the door. When I open it, I immediately look down. My little red headed friend stands here alone, her face tearstained and eyes swollen from crying.

  “Callie, come in, sweetie. What’s wrong?”

  She trudges in wearing her purple coat, her hair unbraided. It hangs around her face in wild crimps and waves.

  “Come, sit down.” Reason is already on his feet, motioning her to the chair.

  Both of us kneel on the floor in front of her.

  She sniffles and rubs her eyes as she begins. “Did you know there isn’t such a thing as Santa Claus? Did you ever know that?”

  I glance at Reason, figuring he should speak in his own defense.

  “Why would you think that?” His voice is soothing.

  “Holly said so. I never believe what Holly says, so I asked my daddy. And he said it’s true, and I might as well know now ’cause he can’t afford the presents this year.” She sobs. “I believed in my Daddy too. But he lied. Now I don’t know what to believe.”

  I give Reason a confused look, knowing I’m certainly no wise woman now.

  He seems to have a handle on it. “A lot of people say Santa Claus isn't real, because people never see him. He keeps pretty secret.”

  “I never saw him, and I tried.” She sniffles.

  “The real Santa doesn’t always give lots of toys and presents. Sometimes he gives stuff we need, and we don’t even realize it came from Santa Claus. When your parents buy you gifts from Santa, they’re being his helpers.”

  He pauses to let her consider this. Then he continues. “If they can't give you a gift, Santa helps them. They just don’t know it came from Santa. He especially likes to make sure you have what you need. Like this awesome purple coat.”

  She blinks up at me and rubs her eyes. “Erin, do you think Santa’s real?”

  “You know, I didn’t think so until I met him. Now I know he’s real.”

  Her eyes fly open in surprise, and then she narrows them. “Are you just trying to make me feel better?”

  “I am trying to make you feel better, but I’m also telling the truth. It’s just that all the stories about Santa are true. Santa is real, he’s just not exactly like everybody thinks, and what he does isn’t exactly what the stories describe.”

  Reason confirms. “He’s definitely not what people think he looks like, that’s for sure.” He laughs and winks at me.

  Callie studies him. “You’re Santa Claus aren’t you?”

  Reason’s head snaps back to look at her. I stifle a laugh. “I—” He looks at me for help.

  Callie squeals and clasps her hand to her mouth. “I knew it. I told Holly so, but she said you can’t be him ’cause you’re not old ’nuff and ’cause you shave your head. But, when I saw you in the parade, you looked like Santa to me.” She giggles, and I see her pink tongue in the spot where her front teeth should be.

  Reason shrugs at me. “I guess I need some practice with the explanation thing.”

  I shake my head, laughing. “No, she’s just a really smart kid.”

  He turns back to Callie. “Anybody ever call you ‘little bit’?”

  “My daddy calls me ‘smart Alex’ sometimes. Holly calls me ‘information overlord’.”

  “Well, my daddy used to call me ‘little bit’. So that’s what I’m going to call you. You’re cute and you’re little. Deal?” He holds out his hand for her to shake.

  “Deal.” Her hand completely disappears in his.

  “Okay, little bit, here’s what you need to know about me. I’m real, I have reindeer, and you don’t need to worry about a thing.”

  “Can I tell Holly?”

  “I have to stay a secret. For safety reasons.” He wears a solemn expression.

  “Oh.” Her eyes widen. “Okay. I keep good secrets.”

  There is a sharp knock at the door. Reason gives Callie a kiss on the cheek, then climbs to his feet and heads for the door.

  When he opens it, I see Callie’s father standing there with his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his coat. He looks taken aback as he blinks up at Reason. “Hi, I’m John, from next door. I’m looking for my little girl. She’s about this tall.” He holds his hand at his waist. “Red hair. She likes Erin a lot. I just thought maybe she might be over here.” He runs his fingers through his hair as he shifts his weight from foot to foot.

  Reason, steps back so he can see Callie. “Absolutely. She’s right here. We were just about to walk her home.”

  “Thank God.” John sighs with obvious relief. He sticks his head in and motions to Callie. “Come on home, Callie.”

  She jumps to her feet and hurries over to her father. As he ushers her out the door, she looks back and winks at Reason.

  Reason winks back. A sudden seriousness washes over him, and he clears his throat. “Um, sir, do you have a second?”

  John looks back in surprise. “Sure.”

  “I hear you’re a school teacher.”

  “Yeah, well I was.”

  “There’s a private school that opened up this year on the other side of town. They just lost a science teacher. You don’t know anyone who’s qualified do you?”

  John gasps. “I’m a science teacher.”

  “Really? Well, if you’re interested—”

  He nods maniacally. “Yes, I’m most definitely interested.”

  Reason reaches in his pocket and pulls out the silver case. He selects a business card and hands it to John. “Just give that number a call, and ask to speak to Hannah. She’ll get you in for an interview with the Principal.”

  John looks like he’s been visited by the burning bush. “Thanks. Man, you have no idea what good news this is.” He extends his hand.

  “No problem.” Reason gives it a shake.

  John thanks him several more times before he finally says goodbye. Reason closes the door and turns to face me. “Wow, you should’ve warned me. That’s definitely one sharp little girl.”

  “Yes, she most definitely is.” I nod and laugh.

  Chapter 30

  KLAUS LOWERS HIMSELF to the floor, pushing the edge of the bed down so far I’d probably roll off if I moved any closer. It springs back in one quick upward bounce as his
weight leaves. I’ve spent tonight in my own bed. I needed to know I could do it, without nightmares and sweats. And so far I have—on my own.

  But now uneasiness begins to nudge at my thoughts. His nails click across the floor as he passes out of my bedroom and up the hallway. I glance at the clock: 4:00 a.m. I strain to listen for sounds in the house, keeping my head still so my hair doesn't make noise on the pillow beneath my ear. Silence presses in all around me.

  My thoughts begin to wander over the terrain of Christmas week so far—the last days. I think we’ve all begun to hope for a miracle, one that will relieve the test of faith and fortitude. The men have started to question Reason’s thinking. They want to know how he’ll travel the city unseen if not by the tunnels. How he’ll reach farther than Christmasville, much less the entire world.

  If the questions wrack my nerves, I can only imagine how Reason feels. He never lets on though. I’ve listened to these conversations with a neutral ear, never showing doubts or allowing emotions to pass through my face. But inside, I’m a growing mess of nerves. If Pigs the cat could test my vibrations, he’d surely run to the nearest ledge and jump off.

  In the darkness, I stare at the gray shades of shadow on my closet door, still listening. I think I hear the slightest tinkle of Klaus’ tag drifting through the house. But I don't hear his steps. Something feels off—something about the weight of the darkness or the buzzing absence of noise. The tag clinks again, followed by silence. Finally, Klaus makes a sharp sniffing sound.

  Something strikes the loose plank in the porch floor outside. I sit bolt upright in bed. My heart beats wildly as a low growl begins to rumble. It grows and builds as I clamber from the bed, grabbing my phone from the nightstand. As I move into the hall, I wonder why I’m going toward the sound. Why am I not climbing through the back window or crawling into a closet?

  And yet, a reasonable person would move through degrees of escalation before flipping on all the mental alarm signals. Because of course, Klaus may have only heard a cat creeping around on the porch. But I know he’s not an ordinary dog. He knows the difference between a meaningless bump in the night, and the presence of someone who shouldn't be here.