by Liz Botts
Gran bursts out laughing. “The elf elders can’t smite you, dear. And Nick is more complicated than all of that. Spend some more time with him. Convince him. Show him. Make him believe.”
“Make him believe what?” I ask, trying but failing to keep the frustration out of my voice.
“In Christmas. The magic of it all.” Gran wipes a stray tear from her cheek. Nice to know I amuse her so much.
I shove the covers back and stand. “How am I supposed to convince him of that when I don’t believe in the magic of Christmas?”
All amusement vanishes from Gran’s face suddenly replaced by intense sadness. “Oh, Virginia,” she says. “Has your father really ruined the beauty of Christmas for you?”
Swiping at the tears flooding my eyes, I turn away from her. “He’s your son,” I mumble, hoping to deflect some of the intensity of this moment.
“I’m not your father’s mother.”
The words take a few moments to sink in. When they do, I spin around. “What are you saying?” I demand. “Am I not your granddaughter? Or are you my mother’s mother?”
Gran sits down on the desk chair and smiles benignly. “I’m your mother’s mother, of course. I should have known that they hadn’t informed you of the truth.”
I slump onto my bed. This is all too much to take in. My whole life has revolved around the apparent lie that my birth had broken the century’s long tradition of Santa Claus having a son to pass the position on to. According to Gran, my mother’s birth actually broke the cycle, if there ever was a tradition at all.
“All my life—I’ve just assumed you had some falling out with my father and that’s why we never got to know you,” I say, tears crowding back into my eyes.
Gran’s eyes are shiny too. Great, just what we need at this moment, a girly cry-fest.
Instead she says, “I never wanted your mother to marry your father, but your grandfather didn’t see any other way.”
“What happened to him?” I ask in a whisper. My mind conjures horrible fates exacted by the elf elders or a cruel wasting disease that consumed him.
With a sad smile Gran says, “He’s in a nursing home on the other side of town. I just can’t care for him here any longer. His age has finally caught up with him. We’ll go there today so you can meet him.”
My heart thunders in my chest at the news that I also still have a grandfather alive in this world. Questions ricochet through my mind and I grab at the most obvious one. “Why did he stop being Santa?”
Gran stands and moves to the window, gently fastening back the curtains with the long ribbon ties. She regards the snow-covered countryside for a bit before answering. “He wanted to retire. So your mom went out into the human world to find a husband. Once they were married, your grandfather transferred the mystical powers of the title and we settled down at the North Pole. Things with your father quickly turned sour. I won’t go into details so please don’t ask. Needless to say, that combined with the emerging war with the King of Winter, we decided to move to the human world to enjoy what was left of our lives.”
I try to process what Gran is telling me. Everything I’ve known my whole life has been a lie. My father doesn’t have some royal pedigree, my mother does. Is that why he’s always been so quick to do the bidding of others and yet at the same time has always ruled with an iron fist?
“Tell me more about the war,” I say slowly. I need more time to puzzle this all out. The war is good filler material.
“Not now,” Gran replies. “Let’s have our breakfast and go into town.”
Yesterday I would have put up a fight for the information, but going into town means I’m going to meet my grandfather. I nod, watch Gran go, and get dressed. As I brush my hair into a ponytail, my mind wanders to Nick. Last night before Elwyn’s appearance, he was going to kiss me. I know he was. He had this look in his eyes. I’ve never seen a look like that, not even when I thought I was head over heels in love with Johan.
A delicious shiver tickles my spine, and I wrap my arms around myself in a quick hug. I’m happy with this new development, despite my reservations. Okay, my initial refusal to participate in this stupid plan. But Nick himself is amazing.
The warm, fuzzy happiness invading my brain clears for a moment. I can see myself from the outside and am disgusted with the simpering girl mooning over a guy. The thought flashes through my mind that perhaps these new feelings I’m experiencing are a spell. Elwyn or even Gran has had ample opportunity to alter my attitude with some magical inducements.
I’ve never been under a spell before, but I have thought myself in love, and frighteningly this feels more like the latter. Still I hurry down to the kitchen where I find Gran making eggs and toast. Swallowing hard I find my resolve to confront her with my suspicions.
“Am I under some sort of love spell?”
Gran turns to me with a confused look on her face. “Whatever do you mean?”
Heat swells from my neck to the crown of my head. She seems genuinely surprised. “Um…it’s just, well, I was wondering, see…” I fumble for the right words, staring hard at the white tile of the kitchen floor. With a sigh, I say, “I’ve just noticed that over the last few days my…feelings for Nick have become, um, friendlier. I thought maybe I was under the influence.”
“Under the influence?” Gran laughs, and continues laughing so hard she snorts, which only makes her laugh harder.
“Of magic.” My clarification only fans the flames. I’m about to stomp out of the kitchen when Gran forces herself to sober up.
“I’m sorry, dear, but that was too funny. No. No, you are not under the influence of any magic. The elders forbade anyone from helping you convince Nick. You are entirely on your own.” She pauses and wipes more tears of amusement out of her eyes. “I’m glad to hear you are feeling friendlier toward Nick.”
Embarrassed, I look away. Gran coaxes me to the table to eat my breakfast, cajoling me the whole time with silly stories about my granddad. As she cleans up the breakfast dishes, I pull out a dishtowel and dry.
As I put the last one away, Gran says, "Why don't you go get your coat on and we'll go see your granddad."
My heart starts to race and a whole new reality opens before me. Family I never knew about. Suddenly I want to tell all my sisters, get them here somehow so they can meet these people who we thought didn't exist. Another odd pang of homesickness washes over me.
As I shrug on my coat, a dangerous thought flits into my brain. It's a partial daydream of sorts, of me and Nick clustered around a modest but beautiful Christmas tree with a few tow-headed children. Carnivorous butterflies invade my stomach. To be a family with Nick is what I’m destined to do, not by my choice, but my daydream makes me want that. To choose it.
I'm still puzzling over this thought when I follow Gran out to the car. A layer of snow had fallen overnight, but that doesn't deter Gran from using her lead foot to get us to town on in record time. As she pulls up at a pretty, Victorian inspired building, I suddenly feel like I'm going to be sick, the nerves have gotten so bad.
"Will Granddad know me?" The fear that he won't have any clue who I am is hard to voice aloud, but I need to know.
Gran smiles at me. "He'll know you from what I’ve told him about you."
"Okay." I exhale the breath I didn't know I was holding.
I follow Gran into the spacious lobby decorated lavishly for the Christmas season. A tree that must be at least twenty-five feet tall stands near a beautiful open staircase. To my right a small sitting room is full of elderly residents gathered around a roaring fire. Everything about this place seems cozy, but I feel sad that my grandfather lives here and not with Gran.
Residents walking through greet Gran. One woman stops to chat, telling Gran that Santa has stopped by for a visit. Gran's face freezes in a mask of cordiality. I know that underneath that smile she fears Granddad has spilled the beans, which would make people think he is crazy.
Then I hear the laugh that is becomi
ng uncomfortably familiar to me. "Nick's here," I say softly to Gran, pleased to see her instantly relax. "I'm going to go say hi before I meet Granddad, okay?"
With a barely concealed smile of joy, Gran nods, biting her lip so as not to give her opinion about any of this.
Following the sound of carols and laughter, I find Nick and quite a crowd gathered at tables in what must be the dining room. Nick has his costume on and sits at the piano playing a rousing rendition of "Santa Claus is Coming to Town."
When he finishes, everyone applauds and Nick turns to face the room again. He catches sight of me, grins, and says, “Ladies and gentleman, I have a special guest joining me this evening. This is Virginia.”
Suddenly all eyes in the room are trained on me, and I can feel a blush creeping up my neck. I give a small wave.
Nick continues as he motions for me to join him on the piano bench. I shake my head as he says, “Why don’t you come join me for the next song?”
"No, I couldn't. I don't sing Christmas carols," I protest.
"Oh, please do. I'd love to hear you sing," a voice behind me chimes in. Something about the voice feels familiar, and I turn to see an older gentleman with a short white beard and twinkling blue eyes smiling at me.
My breath hitches. As Gran joins the man, I know he’s my grandfather. How can I disappoint him? I want to run to him and grab him in a hug, but instead I head toward the piano bench to sit beside Nick.
The grin on Nick's face shows even through his bushy faux beard. I edge myself down on the bench beside him.
"What should we sing?" Nick's voice tickles the sensitive skin below my ear and I shiver. He lets out his Santa laugh. "Let's have a round of 'Up on the Rooftop.'"
His fingers dance across the keys as he launches in to yet another familiar tune. Several people in the room join in. Nick slants a sideways glance at me and quirks an eyebrow until I begin to sing along softly. Thankfully my back is to the room because this is too embarrassing for words. I don’t sing carols because all of them glorify something that is a complete and total lie. Besides that, my singing voice sounds weird to me, too high and tinny. But my grandfather asked me to sing and the way Nick is looking at me…I want to give him a reason to be pleased with me.
We finish the song to more applause. Nick holds my eyes just a moment longer than he should. Then he turns back to the crowd, putting on a good show. My poor heart hammers frenetically in my chest. A quick glance over my shoulder tells me that Gran and Granddad are sitting at the back of the room.
I don't think about what I’m doing, but I reach over and give Nick's hand a quick squeeze before slipping off the piano bench and heading toward my grandparents.
"Virginia." My name whispers off my grandfather's lips with a reverence usually reserved for mystical things. He struggles to stand and reaches to pull me into a hug. As he wraps his arms around me, I’m engulfed in comfort and warmth and safety. My grandfather has retained his Santa shape, feeling squishy as I wrap my arms around his middle. He smells of cinnamon and wood smoke. As he releases me, I realize he’s still the epitome of the title even after all these years away.
Something inside me quivers. I feel like my heart is cracking open, and dare I say, the first small stirrings of belief surface. He releases me, and I stare at him through watery eyes. Tears fall unbidden down my cheeks and I can’t talk.
I have no idea how long we stand there sniffling, hugging, and then laughing with disbelief, but suddenly I notice the room has gotten quiet. The piano music has stopped and the chatter of people has faded. I swipe at my damp cheeks and look around. A jolt of adrenaline races through me as my eyes connect with Nick's. He hovers several feet away, watching us, me, with a look of concern.
He glances at Gran and then Granddad then back to me. "I, um, don't want to intrude," he says rather stiffly. The formality of his voice makes me giggle. The sound surprises all of us, but Nick seems to relax. "Are you okay?"
Another giggle erupts from me. "No, and yes."
Nick looks more confused than ever. He pulls off the Santa hat and beard, leaving him looking adorably disproportioned. I have to glance away so I don't giggle again.
Gran finally says, "Virginia is just meeting her grandfather for the first time."
"Oh, right," Nick says, understanding blossoming in his eyes. "Well, I won't disturb you anymore."
He gives me a little smile before turning away and heading out of the dining room. Something about him leaving fills me with a lonely, empty feeling.
"I'll be right back," I tell my grandparents before darting out after Nick.
He's just about to exit the building when I catch up to him. I say his name breathlessly, and he turns to me. Before I know what is happening, I’m in his arms and his lips are pressed against mine. He tastes deliciously of hot chocolate, and I can smell just the faintest aroma of his cologne, something earthy, woodsy. His hands tangle in my hair, and I feel like I’m drowning in Nick.
When we fall apart, he gives me another puzzled look, shakes his head, runs a hand through his short hair, and says, "I'm sorry. I have no idea why I did that."
My mouth drops open. That might have been the single best kiss of my life and he's apologizing for it? "You have no idea why you did what?" I say, dropping my voice to an angry whisper. "Why you kissed me? Well, figure it out, buddy, before you see me again."
I poke him sharply in the chest before stalking back across the lobby. That's when I notice a group of elderly women watching us from the nearby sitting room. Those that still have decent hearing probably caught most of our little spat. When they see that I’m watching them, they all applaud, causing me to blush.
One woman fans herself as she calls across the lobby, "Don't be too hard on him, girlie. That was one heck of a kiss!"
Nick's laughter chases me back to the safety of my grandparents. I don't mention the kiss to them.
Chapter Six
I know I told Nick to essentially figure out his head and heart before calling me again, but why do boys always take that so literally? Not that my experience is so vast, but still.
Nick has been absolutely MIA for three full days. My grandmother has suggested several times that I call him, but I’m not the one who initiated that soul-searing kiss and then apologized for it. I’ve never been insulted like that before, and I sure as heck expect Nick to come calling to me, not the other way around.
That’s why when the doorbell rings an hour after dinner, I’m surprised to find Nick standing sheepishly on the front step. A quick glance at Gran tells me she knew he was coming. Gee thanks, I so love being clued in on my own love life.
“Would you like to go for a sleigh ride?”
For a moment I think Gran has gotten to him and convinced him for me, but then I see Nick gesture to the front lawn, and I check myself. Duh. Of course he doesn’t know. I haven’t even brought up the conversation, save the initial embarrassing marriage proposal. I wonder if he thinks about that like I do.
When I peer past Nick into the frosty night air, I see a small horse-drawn sleigh sitting next to Gran’s SUV. A beige horse adorned with a fancy red and green harness paws the ground, his breath making frosty puffs in the night air.
“You really go all out with this Christmas crap, don’t you?” I mutter even as I head to the closet to grab my coat. Nick just chuckles. “Gran, Nick’s taking me for a sleigh ride.”
“Oh, good,” Gran says. She appears around the kitchen door, drying her hands on a dishtowel. “I was wondering when—oops.”
Her cheeks shine faintly pink as she realizes she’s been caught. “Well have a nice time. Dress warmly now. Bring her back early, Nick. I think the weatherman said a storm is coming.”
She shuts the door firmly behind us before I have a chance to change my mind. I’m still waiting for Nick to say something as he helps me into the sleigh and climbs in after me. While he tucks the blankets around us, I give his leg a little kick to get his attention. With a cocky grin, he sett
les back and takes the reins. Still, he hasn’t said a word. My irritation level rises. I’m debating what scathing remark to make when Nick laughs, just a low, soft sound that I might have missed if I hadn’t been sitting next to him.
My irritation boils over. “What? What’s so funny?”
With a quick flip of the reins, the horse takes off at a leisurely trot. “You.”
“I’m funny? Or just fun to make fun of?”
All humor leaves Nick’s face, which I watch closely out of the corner of my eye. “I’m not making fun of you.”
Even though I want to dispute this point, he seems so sincere I let it drop for a minute. We ride along in silence save for the runners of the sled slicing through the freshly fallen snow. The night has a soft, velvety feeling to it, the way December nights are at home. The wind whispers around us, and as if queued by a higher power, a soft snow starts to fall. The whole thing reeks of romance.
“You are funny, though.” Nick’s voice startles me out of my disgusted contemplation of the romantic atmosphere of the night.
“Huh?” I shift awkwardly away from him and retuck the blanket around my legs. I’m not sure I want to hear the explanation.
We turn down a path that has deep ruts from heavy snowmobile use and once the turn has been completed, Nick gives me a thoughtful look. “Like the night we met. I mean, I get that it was a setup and all, my mom couldn’t stop talking about it, but you proposed to me.”
I groan. “Why did you have to bring that up? That’s the single most humiliating moment of my life. And I didn’t propose to you.”
“You did,” Nick says. “I mean, I know I’m irresistible, but what was that all about?”
Looking away, I try to decide if this is the time to tell him. The snow starts to fall harder, and the horse trots faster, tossing his head. I guess it’s now or never.
“You won’t believe me.” As the words leave my mouth I regret opening that way.
Nick sighs. “Try me.”
