His Christmas Angel: A Sweet YA Holiday Romance (Christmas Snow)

by Kylie Key

  Annalise came sliding in on the polished hardwood floor and stood in front of me wearing a Santa apron and red reindeer socks. I stared at the socks. Annalise was squawking something at me.

  “What?”

  “I said Did you see anything in there?” Her bright blue eyes blazed as her mouth hung open.

  “Not a thing,” I said.

  “Are you suuuurre?” Her eyes widened.

  “I’m sure.” I grinned at her face, smeared with flour and cocoa.

  “Good,” she snapped with satisfaction, and turned and marched off.

  “Hey, Annalise,” I called, looking over my shoulder. My sisters were considered identical, and a lot of people couldn't tell them apart, not helped by the fact that they liked to dress the same. But when they’ve grown up in front of you, the differences are obvious. Annalise’s eyebrows are more arched and her upper lip has a more defined shape. And Karolina has a freckle below her right ear, if you need a definitive mark.

  “What?”

  “Where’d you get those reindeer socks from?”

  She scurried back in. “Mom got them. Why?”

  “Are they the latest thing? Are reindeer the latest thing?”

  “Duh?” She quirked an eyebrow, and mocked me. “It’s Christmas, Chase. You do know that, don’t you?” She didn’t give me a chance to respond. “You’ve bought me a present, haven’t you? I hope you have. Because I don’t see it under the tree.”

  That was another difference between the twins. Annalise was all loud and sassy, Karolina was softer and quieter, probably because she could never get a word in from her older-by-two-minutes sister.

  “You must have it hiding it in your room,” she said.

  “You better not go in there,” I warned, “or I’ll be calling Santa. Tell him to put you on the naughty list.”

  “What? Next to your name?” Her eyebrows danced up and down. I swear the kid was seven going on seventeen! She scrambled next to me on the couch and whispered behind her hand, “I know you’re grounded. I heard Mom and Nene talking. You did something bad.”

  A shiver of shame shot down my spine. My little sisters shouldn’t have to hear about my misdemeanors...gah, they were kids who liked ballet and rabbits and ice skating and making bracelets.

  “Yeah, I did something stupid, but I promise I’ll be good now,” I said, though it occurred to me that I hadn’t thought about the example I was setting them. The twins were Mom and Dad’s miracles, their angels, as they often reminded them. The long gap between me and them—a little over ten years—had not been intentional.

  “You better be,” Annalise said, her chin wobbly, “because what if Santa doesn’t come to us because you’ve been bad? What if he misses out our house because—”

  “He won’t,” I cut in, realizing her fear was real. “I promise he knows that you’ve been good.”

  “Chase, here you go.” Karolina came in slowly, wearing oven mitts to carry a tray.

  I shifted forward and took the roast chicken dish from her. “Thanks kiddo.” Karolina was wearing a snowman apron, but she had the same socks as Annalise. “Hey,” I said, “how come you’ve both got reindeer socks? Where’s mine?”

  “Your feet are probably too big. They probably don’t make them in your size,” Annalise said, pulling Karolina close to snuggle next to us. She whispered something into her ear, Karolina nodded, and they both laughed. I sensed it was at me. I stabbed a piece of potato and put it in my mouth.

  “Don’t come into the kitchen,” Karolina said, “we’re doing something secret.” She jumped up and grabbed Annalise’s hand, giggling as they scurried out.

  It didn’t take me long to eat my meal, and then I went over to the Christmas tree. Mom and Dad and the girls had gone to pick it up. They’d invited me to go, but I’d been busy with something or other. They’d all decorated it together, and looking at it now I could see how bad a job I’d done at the hospital. I’d thrown the decorations on randomly, no order whatsoever. I wondered if the girl with the gray eyes had managed to sort out the string of lights.

  I bent down to investigate the presents under it. Another wave of shame washed over me. There were a pile of gifts wrapped for me, some from Annalise, some from Karolina, some from both. By the feel of them, they were probably drawings or a single candy, but it was the effort they’d gone to. And I suspected they were making special stuff in the kitchen. I hadn’t bought the girls any presents, Mom had taken care of that for me. Come Christmas morning they’d be a bunch of gifts from their big brother. I mean, shopping wasn’t really my thing. I knew what the girls liked but I didn’t know how to shop for them.

  Come to think of it, I was pretty useless as their brother. The age gap meant there was a disconnect, and though I had often babysat them, it was mainly at night when they were already in bed. They’d had a school concert the other week, before the bonfire thing, the two of them had been elves but I hadn’t gone. No particular reason, I’d just been hanging out at Toby’s house. An elementary school concert had no appeal, and Mom and Dad hadn’t insisted I go. Like their ballet recital. Hadn’t gone to that either.

  I was standing at the tree when Nene came in with a piece of apple pie, telling me I was still banned from the kitchen.

  “You’re not squeezing the presents, are you? Like you used to do when you were little,” she teased.

  I shook my head and laughed, then became serious. “Nene, I haven’t bought the girls anything.”

  “Hasn’t Mom done that?” she asked.

  I nodded. “Yeah, but what could I give them? Something from me?”

  “You know those two, you could wrap a button and they’d squeal in delight. It’s the spirit of Christmas that counts,” she said. “I could leave some gingerbread people for you to decorate after they’ve gone to bed.”

  “Is that what they’re doing now?”

  Nene only raised her eyebrows, refusing to divulge secrets.

  “Okay, yeah, but don’t tell them.”

  Nene shook her head with pressed lips, smiled and grabbed my tray. “You could draw them something? I’ve always liked your artwork.”

  Her smile caused another stab of self loathing. I hadn’t gotten anything for Nene either. Mom said she’d bought something from the whole family, a new reading chair, whatever the heck that was.

  After devouring the pie I went up to my room, pulling out the drawers in my desk. I used to do a lot of drawing, sketches mainly, and I had a stack of paper and cards and marker pens and crayons. I no longer took art as a subject in school, mainly because I hadn’t liked the teacher, Miss Grimshaw. She had never seen my artistic vision, and she’d mocked that black canvas I’d done. For me, the layer upon layer of black paint had been an interpretation of darkness being an absence of light, but she said it was a blatant misuse of school resources and ridiculed it. I decided to focus on the sciences and PE after that.

  Time flew as I made cards for my sisters, drawing bunnies and puppies and unicorns. The girls loved that stuff, and if I could sweet talk May Taylor I’d try to finish volunteering a little early and head to the mall to pick some gifts for them, too.

  I had every intention of getting up early the next morning. I had a distinct thought that being late two days in a row would not impress May.

  After checking my phone, I could see I’d missed out on quite the party last night. Yeah, everyone had had a blast, while I’d been piping icing on gingerbread cookies. Though, dare I say it, the time with Nene had been fun. And I’d never heard the story of how eleven-year-old Dad had accidentally thrown a snowball that hit Mr. Dubois, his school principal. Or when he rode his bike through the Benson’s fence, crushing her flowerbeds. Seemed Dad hadn’t always been perfect.

  I ended up being the last one to the kitchen, pancakes were stacking, bacon was frying and coffee was percolating.

  “Good morning Chase,” Mom beamed, busy at the stove.

  “Morning,” I replied bluntly. Mom and Dad needed to be aware
that I still wasn’t pleased with my forced punishment.

  “What time are you going to the hospital?” Dad asked, ever efficient. He was very systematic in everything, punctual to the second.

  “Nine,” I said, pulling out a chair and sitting next to him.

  “Are you sick?” Karolina asked me.

  “No, he’s helping the sick children,” Dad said, a big emphasis on the word helping. “How did you go yesterday?”

  “Yeah, good,” I mumbled, though my conscience knew I’d done a terrible job.

  “May phoned me last night,” Mom said, causing my heart rate to spike. I could just imagine her telling Mom I’d been thirty minutes late. Several excuses were floating through my mind as I picked up a glass of juice and took a long gulp. “She was impressed by your work. She said you did a marvelous job.”

  I nearly spat my drink out. “Whaaaat?” Either May Taylor had poor eyesight or low standards.

  “I’m glad you’re putting effort into this volunteering,” Dad said, passing a plate of bacon in my direction. “There’s a lot you can learn from it, Chase.”

  “Yes, I don’t want you to see it as a punishment, but an opportunity,” Mom said. “I hope you’ll see how helping others can make a difference. I know you’d rather be with your friends, but already your tree decorating has brightened up the ward.”

  I nodded, stifling the urge to roll my eyes, and heaped bacon onto my plate. My assumption was that any decorations on the tree looked better than bare branches. Dad talked about his upcoming day—a visit to the seniors’ center for morning tea, followed by lunch with council members, and then he was making a visit to the church to help with food preparation for the Community Kitchen Lunch. Saintly deeds were all part of his day-to-day work as Mayor—people saw the nice parts of the job, cutting ribbons, opening new businesses, lunches with neighborhood groups, but he also spent long hours in meetings discussing policies, legislation and budgets.

  Mom confirmed that she was taking the twins to see Santa at the department store, then Nene was going to pick them up when she met Dad for lunch. Winking at me, she seemed genuinely pleased that we’d all be together this evening getting ready for Santa, and the girls got excited, almost hyperventilating at the prospect.

  “You’ll finish at the hospital at five?” Dad asked.

  “I guess. That’s if they need me for that long.”

  “I’m sure May will find you plenty to do,” Mom said with a reassuring smile. “Maybe she’ll get you to read to the patients? Or play games with them?”

  I frowned. Heck, I never read to the twins—surely they couldn’t expect me to read to complete strangers. Sometimes the girls would force me into a game of Hungry Hungry Hippos or something, but the only games I played were video ones. And most of them weren’t suitable for seven year old girls.

  Mom encouraged me to leave earlier than I had planned, saying traffic might be heavy this morning, so I took her advice because I didn’t want to park a mile away. She also told me to comb my hair and swap the ripped jeans—tidy presentation wouldn’t kill me for one day, she said.

  So I arrived at the children’s ward ten minutes early, wearing tan pants and a black hoodie which Mom had reluctantly approved. She’d preferred that I wear something more festive like red, or a colorful sweater. I didn’t own any red hoodies, and I wasn’t a sweater type of guy.

  The receptionist had an elf hat on today, and my first thought was Please don’t make me wear an elf hat. She told me to go through to the lounge, that May would meet me and the other volunteers in there. I took a bit more notice of my surroundings as I walked along the corridor. There were some supply rooms through the first doors, but through the second there were patient rooms. Through one open door I could see a boy on a bed with one of those tubes attached to his nose. I hurried past.

  My eyes almost popped out when I entered the lounge. The tree looked amazing and was lit up like a proverbial Christmas tree, but I couldn’t take any credit for it. I mean, the decorations were the ones I’d put on, but they’d been rearranged, majorly.

  The empty boxes had been cleared away, but the stepladder was still there. I sat on the couch and looked at the tree, wondering if the girl had fixed it. The lights were hung in an orderly fashion, so she must have managed to sort them out. But where was she now? Punctuality obviously wasn’t one of her strong points.

  One of the ornaments on a top branch was facing the wrong way, so I jumped up and flipped it around. Who would’ve thought Chase Masters was so particular! Right then a couple came through the door, dressed in matching Santa sweaters. The lady had on a reindeer antlers headband, and the man wore a Santa hat.

  “Hello, hello, hello,” the man said brightly, coming over to me and shaking my hand. “I’m Dan Borelli and this is my wife, Shauna.”

  I introduced myself, unable to call them by their given names—it felt weird calling old people Dan and Shauna.

  “So good of you to give up your time,” Mrs. Borelli said. “It’s lovely to see young ones helping out. Oh, doesn’t the tree look delightful.” She rushed over to it for a closer inspection.

  “Yes, it’s the best we’ve ever seen it.” May Taylor came in, her white uniform covered with a Mrs. Claus top and she wore a Santa hat. She greeted the Borellis and then stood next to me. “All thanks to this boy,” she said, proudly patting my shoulder.

  I squirmed under the praise as she told the Borellis how I’d come in last night to get a start on things. It was the opportune time to confess that I hadn’t done it all on my own, but an older lady dressed as an elf came in, almost tripping on her fancy shoes.

  “Here’s the keys to the conference room,” she said, handing a keychain to May. May promptly passed it to me.

  “Here you go, Chase. We need chairs brought up for a concert this afternoon. The kids from the Music and Dance Academy are putting on a show for our patients.”

  It was suddenly like Grand Central Station as several more elves arrived, all elderly. Mr. Borelli offered to show me where to go, while Mrs. Borelli and Mrs. Lark (the first elf) went to collect gifts for the children. I looked around but couldn’t see the girl from yesterday. I wondered whether May would give her an earful for being late.

  I’d taken off my hoodie after two trips to the ground floor, and I’d only gotten a third of the number I needed. With patients and their families, it was estimated I bring up thirty chairs. Mr. Borelli looked a little frail for carting chairs around, so I suggested he organize them into rows while I did the lifting.

  The morning flew as I offered to hang the decorations from the ceiling and wreaths on the walls. Mr. Borelli didn’t look stable on the ladder.

  May came in shortly after eleven o’clock and said we should take a break. All the other volunteers were in the lunch room, a spread of cookies, cakes and sandwiches laid out on the table. It was like my worst nightmare come true—sitting with a bunch of old people dressed in Christmas costumes.

  “Oooh, didn’t anyone get Chase a hat?” Mrs. Borelli asked.

  “Coffee, tea or hot chocolate?” May gave me a mug, pointing me in the direction of the drinks station. I didn’t particularly want anything, but figured it would be best to have something to occupy my hands while I sat there. I made myself a hot chocolate, and Mrs. Lark offered me a plate of cinnamon cookies. I took one and thanked her, looking around for the girl. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a face that was younger than my parents.

  Mrs. Borelli came behind me and before I could protest or stop her, a red Santa hat was placed on my head. Everyone cheered, my second worst nightmare come true. I knew it would be rude to take it off. My friends would be in hysterics if they could see me now, in a room with a bunch of old people. Well, at least the girl with the big gray eyes wasn’t here to see it.

  My hope that I could sit invisibly at the end of the table was thwarted when May mentioned that I was Boyd Masters’ son. The room erupted with accolades for my father, how the revival of the Fourth of J
uly Parade and the much needed extension to the library had been great boosts to the town. The Mayor was doing great things for Snow Ridge, everyone said. I nodded and smiled; I had no idea he was so highly regarded.

  They also commended me on my volunteering, how wonderful it was that I was community-minded and following in my parents’ footsteps. I gave May a wry smile, nervous that she might reveal the truth about why I was here, but she too agreed that it was lovely to see a young face. Everyone then went on to discuss how technology had changed the world so much, and how the art of communication was dying.

  I had planned on going out for lunch, to get a burger or pizza, anything to get out of the place for an hour, but Mrs. Borelli said she’d packed some ham sandwiches, enough for everyone, so I felt obligated to stay. A few of the very old volunteers (someone said Mrs. Hammond was eighty five), were finishing for the day. They said they’d be back tomorrow to help with Christmas lunch.

  “They’re coming in on Christmas Day?” I asked Mrs. Borelli.

  “Oh yes,” she said. “Dan and I will too.”

  “What about your own family?” I asked. I knew Dad always disappeared for an hour or so on Christmas Day, usually to visit the Community Kitchen which ran a meal for those who would otherwise be on their own. But that was all part of his job. It seemed odd that people would give up their own day voluntarily.

  “We always have our children over for a Christmas breakfast,” Mrs. Borelli said, “and then we’re spending the afternoon at my oldest grandson’s house. He and his wife are having their first Christmas in their new home. So Dan and I will have the middle of the day to come here and spread a bit of cheer.”

  I was somewhat astounded. The Borellis were ordinary people, but they seemed to do extraordinary things. Mr. Borelli had told me that they’d owned the local deli in town for years, which their daughter now ran. The community had been good to them so they liked to help out wherever they could. Mrs. Borelli was involved with a craft club and helped with reading in schools, and Mr. Borelli did meal delivery for old people. I laughed at that—he was 75, but considered people in their 90s as old!