Santa's Secret

by Heidi McLaughlin

  The edge of the garage is only a few feet away; I hightail it as fast as I can, without slipping, until I’m safely behind the wall. The pile of snow, left over from the plow makes for the perfect barricade. I situate myself behind the bank, and start assembling my arsenal of snowballs. My enemy heckles me from across the yard. The only problem I can see is my truck being in the way. Had I known I was going to be ambushed, I would’ve parked on the street.

  “We know you’re out there,” the voice of my dad yells out, followed by the tiniest of giggles. Of course, my daughter is on his side.

  “You can’t hide forever, Daddy—”

  “No, don’t call him that.”

  “I mean, yeti.” Holly laughs again.

  “Yeti?” I yell back. “How am I a yeti?” I ask, even though one look at me clearly proves I’m heading in the direction of full on yetiness with the amount of snow covering my legs right now.

  Without any provocation from me, a snowball flies toward my direction. It only misses by a few inches, but the eminent danger I fear causes me to launch a counterattack. I throw three snow bombs back-to-back blindly into the night, hoping to hit either one of my targets. A round of giggles leads me to believe I completely missed Holly and my father.

  “Incoming,” my father yells. I make the mistake of looking up, only to be pelted with a hard packed ball to my face. My body falls to the ground, my back slamming against the cold, hard snow. The padding my jacket does nothing to soften my fall.

  “Ugh,” I say, wiping away the water remnants. I have no doubt there’ll be a goose egg knot on my forehead within the next few minutes. Now that they know my location, I’m left with no choice but to forge ahead with an attack. I may not come out as victor, but I won’t go down without a fight.

  Making sure to cup my arm, I pile a mound of snowballs in there. As quietly as I can, I sneak over to the other side of my truck and start throwing snow bombs into the bushes. The sound of my dad grunting changes my aim. I toss everything I have until I’m empty.

  I move into the middle of the yard, knee deep in the snow and start my victory dance. My dad never shows his face, but his aim is on point when multiple balls head my way. More laughter rings out from behind the bushes, mostly little girl giggles.

  “I give up,” I say. “Mercy.”

  “Daddy, you can’t quit.”

  “I’m out of ammo. I surrender.”

  Holly stands up, covered head to toe in snow. Only the lights strung above her and in the trees light the path toward her. I snatch her up and hug her tightly. When she pulls away, her cheeks are bright red and her nose is running. “Are you cold?”

  “No, I’m having fun with grandma and grandpa.”

  “I see that.” I set her down and turn toward the shrubs. “You can come out now, coward.” My mouth drops open when I see my mother stand first, followed slowly by my father. “My whole family?”

  “Meredith stayed inside.”

  “Well, it’s nice to see my sister cares about me.”

  My mom shakes her head. “She didn’t want to be cold,” she says, shrugging.

  I shake my head and look down at Holly. “This was your doing, right?”

  Holly shrugs and makes the sweetest face possible. I’m tempted to push her into the snow bank, but instead I scoop her up and carry her into the garage so she can take off her snowsuit.

  “Was that fun?” I ask her.

  “The best. Grandpa and I made snowballs after school.”

  “Maybe next time you’ll give your old man a warning.”

  “You’re not old, Daddy.”

  I smile and kiss her on the nose before directing her inside. Holly and I go over to the woodstove to try to warm up. “Smells good,” I holler toward the kitchen.

  “Thanks.” The voice is from someone familiar, but I can’t picture who it is until Shelby comes around the corner. She rests against the small piece of wall separating the kitchen from the living room.

  “Shelby,” I say her name more out of shock than anything. I didn’t see another car out there when I pulled in, not that I was looking for one, and can honestly say I wasn’t expecting to see her at my parents’. She comes over to me, her stocking feet sliding across the hardwood floors. With both hands on my shoulders, she leans forward and kisses me on my cheek, lingering there for a minute. Holly reaches for my hand, tugging me away.

  I smile softly at both of them, but have never been so thankful for Holly to want my attention. “I didn’t know you were joining us for dinner.”

  “Meredith offered, said your parents wouldn’t mind.”

  Unfortunately, Shelby’s right, my parents won’t mind even though they really can’t afford to feed many more mouths. Both my parents work their fingers to their bones and Meredith shouldn’t invite her friends to dinner.

  “How was work?” she asks. Shelby motions for me to follow her to the sofa. I do so, not wanting to be rude. Holly comes with me and climbs up onto my lap.

  “Work was… well, most of it was spent getting people out of ditches.”

  “We never learn, do we?”

  “Learn what?” I ask.

  “To slow down. To take corners easily. To just stop and pay attention to your surroundings.”

  Shelby’s right. I chuckle. “You sound like a public service announcement.”

  She laughs, throws her head back and in the process her hand lands near my thigh. My legs still might be numb from the cold weather, but I can definitely feel her fingers press against my jeans. Her flirting isn’t so subtle.

  “Public service is what I do best,” she says, moving closer. “If you want, I can find you something to do for the winter festival. I’m working hand-in-hand with the mayor to make it the best one yet.”

  My parents walk into the living room with a tray of mugs. Holly bolts from my lap to go retrieve her cup of what I’m assuming is hot cocoa.

  “Shelby, would you like some?” my mother asks.

  “Yes please, Mrs. Fisher. Meredith has raved about your homemade cocoa. I’ve been dying to try it.” She takes a cup from my mother and instead of keeping it for herself, she hands it to me and reaches for another one. Holly follows my mom back to the kitchen, where the banging of pots and pans becomes a bit louder.

  “Thanks,” I say, giving her a half smile. “Where’s Shawna?” I ask after noticing she’s not here.

  “She’s with her father. He’s in town for the night and asked to see her.” Shelby breaks eye contact with me and looks down at her mug.

  Ever since Meredith started talking about Shelby, I’ve never considered where her ex-husband is or was. Nor have I asked because I didn’t think it was my business. I’m sure if I listen hard enough around town, the gossipmongers will no doubt fill me in about Shelby. Thing is, I’m interested… sort of. I’m not sure I’m ready to date or maybe I’m not positive she’s the one I want to date. Yes, it’d be nice because our daughters are the same age. Yes, Shelby is beautiful. However, I feel like there should be a spark. I haven’t felt that… yet. “For the night?”

  Her thumb moves up and down the side of her cup. I tear my eyes away from there to focus on her, giving her my undivided attention. “We divorced last year. Shawna and I moved here to start over and he stayed in the city.”

  “New York?” I ask.

  She nods. “His job requires him to travel. I used to go with him until Shawna started school. We thought it would be better that I stay home so her schedule wasn’t interrupted and she wasn’t raised by the nanny. As with any cliché, he started having… well, he just wasn’t a very good husband to me and that led to a lot of fighting. We tried counseling, bought a house here with the intent he’d quit his job and we’d live here, but someone else was more important to him.”

  “But he’s a good dad?”

  Shelby shakes her head. “I wish. I can deal with him letting me down, but not Shawna. She really doesn’t understand why he’s never around. He tells her it’s because of work,
but he brought his new girlfriend to Vermont to ski. I guess he thought he’d introduce Shawna to her. I didn’t really ask him when he called this morning to let me know he wanted to see her.” She shrugs. “I can’t really tell him no because the court order allows for visitation and he pays his child support. Nor does he listen when I tell him how much he’s hurting her when he doesn’t come to visit or call. He thinks he’s doing the right thing by staying gone all the time, says daughters need their mothers while growing up.”

  I thought I had it bad. I don’t know how I would react if Heather had decided the life we were sharing wasn’t what she wanted and only came around sporadically to see Holly. Maybe in a sense abandonment would be better than death, but then again, maybe not. I also can’t imagine not being a part of Holly’s life, and I’m not sure how any parent ever comes to the conclusion their child is better off without them.

  “I’m sorry, Shelby.”

  She smiles back in kind. “It’s not easy being a single parent.”

  I half scoff half laugh. “No, it’s definitely not.” I’ve had my doubts about my ability to parent since Heather passed away. I often lie in bed at night, wondering what I’m doing and how many ways I am messing up Holly’s life, but then I look at her and see the way she needs me and my hectic crazy life seems to make sense for the most part. As easy as it would be to walk away from my life, it’d be the hardest decision to make.

  “You know Meredith has offered to babysit if you and I wanted to grab dinner some night.”

  Nothing like being caught off guard. I take a drink of my hot cocoa and try to form an answer. I haven’t wanted to date at all, and I’m still not sure I do, but maybe I have to get back out there.

  “We’ll have to take her up on her offer some day.” This apparently is the right thing to say because Shelby smiles brightly.

  “I’d like that, Aiden.”

  Shelby starts to move closer just as my mom lets us know dinner is ready. I move so fast, I’m sure Shelby probably toppled over. That thought alone brings a grin to my lips, even though it’s far from funny.

  At the table, she chooses to sit next to me. Her thigh rests against mine and while I’m tempted to ask her to give me some space, I don’t. However, I do knock my sister’s water over, soaking her lap. I’ve told her before, I’m not interested in dating, yet my words haven’t sunk in. I may have agreed to go on a date with Shelby, but I feel like she’s being stuffed down my throat, and that’s because my sister is a meddler.

  Thirteen

  Delaney

  The one thing I haven’t been able to do in my career is sing. Not because the opportunities haven’t presented themselves, but because I can’t carry a tune. I’m the world’s best singer in the shower, my car and even when I’m home alone and no one is around to hear me. I’ve been known to belt out a song or two with my friends in the car, despite the volume always seeming to be turned up louder. If that’s a sign I shouldn’t, I always miss it because in my mind, I’m that great. Ask anyone of my friends and they’ll tell you otherwise. I’m tone deaf, a lyrical screecher with a voice so bad I can break a vase. Not literally, but it’s been implied.

  The sheet music reads like a jumbled mess. I don’t remember a thing from choir and each time Mrs. Winters looks over at me, I smile and continue to make my mouth move. Thankfully, the fifth grader I’m standing next to sings like Pavarotti and he’s making me sound amazing. Honestly, I’m not sure why Mrs. Winters has me standing with the choir because I won’t be performing, at least, I hope that’s not her plan.

  When her hands finally come to rest, I drop my sheet music and move back to the other side of the room while she speaks with the students. “Let’s close the risers and get into character. Ms. Du Luca is going to take over from here.”

  Finally, I think as I grab the script from my bag. I have it memorized, with each part tabbed with a different colored flag. I stayed up all night, reading and making slight changes, wanting this to be perfect.

  Standing in front of a couple dozen students, all staring back at me, is worse than a stressful audition. Each one is focused, waiting for me to say something or stumble and fall on my face. No, they wouldn’t want that, right? I swallow hard, clear my throat and inhale deeply as if I’ve never breathed in before. I smile, but it feels weak, forced even, as most of the students keep me pinned under their watchful gaze.

  The young Pavarotti raises his hand. I nod and squeak out a measly, “yes.”

  “My father says with you directing our play, people from all walks of life will be at the festival.”

  All walks of life? What does that even mean?

  “Tell your father thank you.” I think. “Okay, if I could have Betsy and Michael come forward, we’ll get started.” I read from the cast list Mrs. Winters has provided for me. When the students step forward, I feel a sense of relief. I don’t know if it’s because they’re here or if it’s because I’m really doing this. I’m going to help direct the winter play.

  The play we’re doing is one Mrs. Winters wrote. It’s about a young child who is adamant his parents choose the smallest tree with as few branches as possible, after hearing the tree farmer is going to chop it down and turn it into mulch. Of course, his parents want the big full tree, but the young boy is determined.

  “Betsy, if you’ll take it from page one, and Michael you’ll follow right after.”

  “We know, Ms. Du Luca, we were practicing before you arrived,” Betsy says. I nod and bite my tongue from the harsh response that’s sitting there. No need for snark is what I want to say. Instead, I motion her to start. Actresses!

  Throughout the hour, children come and go for rehearsal. It won’t be until a night or two before the festival when the cast will be together. Mrs. Winters says children are so busy these days, getting them to volunteer for school functions has become harder and harder, until she implemented the winter play into the choir program and held try-outs for those not in her class. Still some students have other activities, which makes it difficult. Back when Dominic and I were in school, our parents made sure we stayed active, but committed.

  When the last round of elementary students strolls in, the tiny gasps get my attention quickly. Two girls are huddled together and not hiding the fact that they’re pointing at me. I wave, which starts a round of giggles.

  I go to them and crouch down. “What are your names?” I ask.

  “I’m Shawna and this is my bestie, Holly, but she’s shy.”

  Holly… Aiden’s Holly. I can tell immediately it’s her. I don’t know if it’s because she’s Aiden’s daughter or if it’s because of the way her blue eyes sparkle, but I’m completely taken by her. There’s something about her that reminds me of myself when I was her age. My hand immediately goes out and Shawna shakes it. Holly is hesitant, but eventually sets her small hand into mine. “Hi Holly, I’m Delaney.”

  Once I get the younger kids situated, we practice their songs and stage placement. For the most part, they will be in the background singing, holding and even being props, and a few will have a line or two. Fortunately, Mrs. Winters has already chosen who will speak. I say this because I already know I’d play favorites and pick Aiden’s daughter, which already makes me a crappy director.

  After fifty minutes of practice, the bell finally rings. Everyone lines up at the door, waiting for their teacher to come back. When the last child is out, I slump in the chair. “That was exhausting.”

  “Says the actress who does this for eighteen hours a day,” Mrs. Winters points out with a laugh.

  “It’s not the same. I get breaks every few takes. A nap if I want one. Food when I need it. I can walk off set and use the restroom even though the director will get angry; they can’t really say anything to me. But here—”

  “Here is different. Here means always being on your best behavior even when a child is telling you ‘all walks of life will be in town.’”

  “What did he mean?” I ask her.

  Mrs.
Winters sits down next to me and pats my leg. “I suppose your parents stay quiet on the town gossip, although with you being back, I’m surprised you haven’t run into Leo’s parents.”

  I chuckle at his name. It’s wrong and unprofessional, but considering I called him Pavarotti, I can’t help it. “Honestly, they try to shelter me from everything, especially since my father became mayor.”

  “As I suspected. Leo’s father ran against your dad a few times. He’s determined to unseat him.”

  “And his father thinks I’m going to what, bring the degenerates out?”

  She shrugs. “Doesn’t matter what his father thinks. Everyone in Ramona Falls is happy you’re home. I heard you’ll have a booth at the festival.” She looks at me with a gleeful smile.

  “I tried for a kissing booth, but he wouldn’t go for it.” We both laugh. Even when I suggested it, I knew it’d be a long shot. “You know, that was the first time my dad ever asked me to do something like that; use my career in such a way.”

  “How’d you feel?”

  I shrug. “Oddly, I don’t seem to care.”

  The drive to the airport took longer than expected, and by the time I pull in I don’t have to park because Calvin is already standing outside. He’s six foot five and sticks out like a sore thumb. I park along the curb and hop out, running up to him. “I’m so sorry I’m late. The roads were crap and I had to drive slowly.” My arms try to wrap around his waist, but the truth is, he’s like ten times my size.

  “It’s cold here.”

  No, hi Delaney or boss lady.

  “Really?”