What would he do without Rosie?
Yeah, okay. I get it. That said, you should see the coat she wears. It’s like a hundred years old. She was SHIVERING walking downtown today.
That’s kind of sad. Where’d you find this orphan?
Don’t be unkind. And, she is an orphan. You’re a mean girl.
Several seconds went by before a new text from Rosie showed on the screen.
I’m sorry. I was trying to be funny.
He shook his head, a laugh bubbling to the surface like it did when he was around his sister.
Don’t. I’m the funny one.
I’m glad you met someone. Where?
Jury duty.
And weren’t you complaining bitterly about that yesterday?
Yes.
Also, didn’t you just start jury duty like yesterday?
Yes.
OMG! No dress. I repeat, no dress.
She didn’t have to beat a dead horse. He got it.
Over and out.
Do I still get Morgan tomorrow for our shopping night?
He’d almost forgotten. Every year Rosie took Morgan out shopping for gifts for him and Grammie. They went out to dinner and then back to Rosie’s for a sleepover.
Yes. She’s excited.
Me too.
Goodnight, sis. Love you.
Love you back.
He tossed his phone onto the bed. His sister was right, which proved Rena had caused him to lose his mind. He would take her someplace casual tomorrow night. Or, better yet, have her over for dinner. Morgan would be with Rosie. He could make steaks and baked potatoes. Even he could make a steak.
The tasks for the night completed, he shut off the computer and crossed over to close the shades. At the window, he paused. Ice crystals sparkled on the porch and street lamps. Holiday lights glimmered from most of the houses up and down their quiet street. This time of night seemed magical. Movement across the street caught his attention. An elderly couple sat on their porch swing, holding hands, all bundled up in heavy coats so they looked like marshmallows.
Was a miracle as simple as this? A couple growing old together, still in love, still holding hands? Was love itself the miracle?
Like Rena, he needed to notice the daily miracles instead of grieving over the evil in the world. Was the world broken? Yes. Were there evil men and women out there? Yes. But for all those, love still won every single day. You had only to walk outside your home to see it. He’d just seen it outside his bedroom window.
He waved. They waved back. He didn’t even know their names. Why was that? Was he really that busy he couldn’t cross the street and learn their names? He and Morgan would go over with some of his mom’s Christmas cookies. A gesture of good tidings. Neighbors acting like neighbors.
What a gift it must be to grow old together. Someone to grow old with. Someone to sit on the porch with. Someone sweet and soft and warm.
Rena. Someone like Rena.
* * * * *
Rena spotted Ryan as he rounded the corner of Fourth and James. He carried his bag over his shoulder and wore the same camel-colored, wool pea coat from yesterday. She’d waited for him before going inside, even though it was only twenty degrees and her fingers were numb inside the thin pockets of her jacket.
He waved when he saw her, his breath like a cloud of smoke in the frigid air. Her insides fluttered as if a thousand magical fairies danced with excitement. Ryan. How was it possible that yesterday she had known only his name and the shape of him as he moved through the small world of their office building? The contours of his face, the exact color of his eyes, the sound of his voice had been there, but unknown to her. Now they seemed as if she’d always known them, as if yesterday was only a continuation instead of a beginning. Had their souls known each other in another lifetime? Or was is that time was not experienced exactly as we thought? Souls did not hover about in the natural world, waiting their turn in line, but rather danced the wicked, crazy dance where time and space merged into a higher plane. Whatever it was between them, it felt like destiny and smelled of home.
When he reached her, he grabbed her into an embrace. His arms tightened around her waist as she rested her cheek against the scratchy surface of his coat. “Good morning,” she said.
She lifted her face to take in his smooth face. A nick on his chin hinted at an early morning shave. He smelled of shaving cream and spicy aftershave.
“Seven. It’s been too long,” he whispered. Right there on the street, as people milled past and a homeless man begged for money and shopkeepers lifted shades, he kissed her. Unhurried and gentle.
When they came up for air, he gestured toward the door. “We have to go now or we’ll be late.”
Fifteen minutes later, they were back in the jury box. Carson brought John Smith to the stand and began his questioning.
“Mr. Smith, can you tell us your occupation?”
“I’m in the business of toys and hearts,” he said.
“You’re currently unemployed. Is that correct?”
“That is not correct, no. I have a job up north.”
Carson flinched in apparent surprise. “And what do you do up north?”
“Well, it’s a complicated job, but basically, I supervise the toy making, spend time with Mrs. Claus, eat a lot of cookies, play poker with some of the elves.” He laughed as he pulled on his beard.
Was it just her or did it sound like ho, ho, ho?
“I’m joking about the poker. What kind of role model would I be for children if I were caught gambling? But I do eat a lot of cookies.” He patted his belly. “In a nutshell, we spend most of our time getting ready for the Christmas season. I guess you could call me the CEO of the North Pole.”
Mr. Carson’s face had turned ashen. He gripped the sides of the podium with both hands, his knuckles white. He glanced at his notes and then back to the defendant. “Mr. Smith, I’m not certain I’m following.”
“There’s not much to follow, son. I’m Santa, as in good ol’ Saint Nick. Kris Kringle. Santa Claus.”
“Santa Claus?” Carson’s expression was one of disbelief. Or shock. Rena couldn’t be sure. She wanted to look at Ryan and gauge his reaction, but she refrained.
Carson stuttered. “Y-you think you’re Santa?”
“Well, yes, son, I am Santa. Why else would I have a bag full of toys for the boys and girls at the shelter? This whole thing’s been a bit of a misunderstanding.” He looked around the room. “Since there are no kids in here, I’ll tell you all the hard facts. Santa, as you know him, is not real. I don’t do everything all in one night. There’s just too many kids, so I spend most of December delivering toys. Sometimes, like the night in question, the wrong toys are left, so I must swap them out. Fortunately, the gifts collected never go to waste because they’re on someone else’s list.”
Carson looked over at the judge. “Can we have a recess? I need to speak to my client.”
Judge Warren hesitated. She looked over at John Smith. “I’d like you to keep going, Mr. Carson. I’d like to learn more about Mr. Smith’s beliefs about himself.”
“But, this wasn’t what he told us during prep.”
“I’m sorry, but he’s under oath,” Judge Warren said. “I’d like to hear more of what he believes to be true.”
Carson took off his glasses and wiped his forehead with a tissue. “Yes, Your Honor.” With his glasses back on, he addressed Mr. Smith. “Mr. Smith, no offense, but everyone in this room knows that parents are Santa. Children, after the age of nine or so, also know the truth. There is no Santa.”
“Just because you believe this to be true does not mean it is. Yes, parents in wealthy parts of the world, like this one, for example, handle the Santa duties. However, there are many children who live in poverty-stricken or war-torn countries, or in circumstances where parents do not have the means to provide gifts. That’s where I come in. We take care of all the children who need Santa to deliver them a toy. For example, the children
at the shelter. Their mothers are running for their lives. They are not able to be Santa. That’s why I was at the shelter that night, exchanging the wrong gifts for the right ones.” He smiled and folded his hands over his lap.
“But how do you keep track of all the wishes and kids?” Carson asked.
Good question. Rena wondered the same thing. Not that she was buying this wacko’s story or anything, but how sophisticated was the man’s pretend world?
“It’s complex, especially as the world’s population has grown so large. And, as more countries are plunged into chaos because of evil. But one of my staff, Elf Tanner, is a computer whiz. He’s designed a program to keep track of all the wishes. With this program—which I can pull up on my phone since Tanner’s team came up with an app—we can make sure we get the right gifts to the right kids. This also may come as a surprise to you, but most children are on the nice list. Unlike adults.” His gaze flickered first to the District Attorney and then over to the jury box. Was he looking at her? Rena blushed. What had gotten her on the naughty list? Probably living in a fantasy world instead of focusing on her real life.
Wait a minute. This guy wasn’t Santa. He was just another person who also, apparently, lived in a fantasy world. What about this? How close was she to becoming this guy? For years she’d lived only in the pages of books and her own fantasy world. Why would she think that was enough for a robust life? She’d been a shell of a person. But yesterday was real. Ryan was real to her now. They were going on a date tonight. He’d kissed her. Please, God, don’t let this be a dream. Don’t let me wake up to discover I’m just plain old Rena with no chance for love or a better life.
She focused her gaze on Mr. Smith. If he did think he was Santa, was it really hurting anyone? His delusions made some children happy.
Regardless, she must make some changes. It was time to live. Out loud and for real.
“So, let me see if I understand this fully,” Carson said. “You take care of all the needy children. How is that possible? There’s only one you.”
“Yes, quite right. I forgot to tell you how that works. There is a whole team of us who deliver the presents. Unlike me, they blend in because they’re members of the communities in which they serve. You might live next door to one and never know it, although their altruistic hearts are usually evident in other ways as well. If you look closely, you’ll see my helpers. Some might be in this very room.” He cocked his head to the left, indicating the judge. “Look carefully. You’ll see love everywhere. Acts of love. Good people. Heroes. They’re all part of my army, so to speak.”
“Do they know they’re in your army?” Carson asked. His tone was a little condescending in Rena’s opinion.
“Some do, some don’t. For example, Mr. Carson, you’re a public defender. You chose a career serving the poor. You’re in my army, but you don’t know it. Others, yes.”
“Can you give me an example?” Carson asked.
“Melinda Gates. She’s quite aware of what we’re trying to accomplish. She’s at the top of the good list, I can assure you, and not just because she has me over for tea once a year to discuss plans.”
Rena glanced at Ryan and her fellow jurors. They appeared shell-shocked. How would they ever convict this poor, sweet man? This delusional man. Tea with Mrs. Gates? If that didn’t tip him all the way into crazy land, she didn’t know what did. From now on, she needed to keep herself in check. A few more fantasies and she might think herself right into the loony bin where this poor old guy was headed.
“I have no further questions, Your Honor,” Carson said. “The defense rests.”
Judge Warren asked LaRue if she had any questions for the defendant. She declined. Rena wondered if it was because of Crazy Santa’s insinuation that she was on the naughty list or if she couldn’t think of anything to ask that would bring them any closer to the truth.
Judge Warren turned to the jury box. “We’ll release you for lunch now. When we return, we’ll go into closing arguments.”
* * * * *
Ryan wasn’t sure how but lunch was over in what seemed like minutes instead of an hour and a half. Time with Rena seemed to speed by. Before he knew it, they were back in the jury room waiting for the bailiff to fetch them inside for the closing arguments. She came in just as he finished sending his sister a text that Morgan was at their Mom’s and to get her from there.
“Well, folks. I have some news. During your lunch hour, the two teams reached a plea deal. You are free to go.”
Strangely, no one said anything or had any kind of reaction at all.
“You’re free to talk amongst yourselves about the trial or anywhere else if you wish,” the bailiff said. “We thank you for your service. You may go.”
Ryan and Rena hung back as the rest of the jurors filed out.
“What will happen to him?” Rena asked the bailiff.
“The judge will come to a sentence and that will be that,” the bailiff said.
“Will he go to jail?” Ryan asked. He didn’t want the poor guy to suffer. Was he delusional? Clearly. But he needed help, not jail.
“I’m not sure. But I doubt it,” she said.
They said goodbye and walked out to the hallway and down the stairs without speaking. Something bothered him. He couldn’t say exactly what it was, but this wasn’t right. It wasn’t until they were on the street that he felt the urge to talk.
“We know he’s not really Santa, right?” he asked.
“He’s a person who lives in a fantasy world,” Rena said. “That’s a dangerous thing to do, but all the same, I feel sorry for him.”
“Me too. And I’ve got to say, his testimony felt so real. I started thinking maybe it was possible,” he said.
“I know. It was easy to get wrapped up in it. I wish it were true. Especially lately, with everything going on in the world, it would be nice to know Santa was out there looking after all the kids.”
They trudged toward the Chase building. At least he could get the bonuses taken care of now without making the HR director stay late. When they reached the building, they took the elevator up to their respective floors. He took advantage of this fact and kissed her before it stopped at the eighteenth floor. “I’ll see you tonight. I’ll pick you up around six. I’m making you dinner, so just wear whatever’s comfortable,” he added.
She nodded and flashed him her pretty smile as she exited the elevator. Only four hours and he’d be able to see her again. Now to take care of those Christmas bonuses.
* * * * *
Rena changed clothes three times before deciding on a simple red sweater and black jeans. She showered, and washed and dried her hair. With a flatiron, she made waves in her hair, and she put makeup on with extra care. When she was done, she stood back from the mirror. Not too bad. It would have to do.
Right at six, Ryan texted that he was downstairs. She didn’t want him to come up, so she grabbed her coat and headed down the stairs. He greeted her with a hug and a kiss and held her hand as they headed to his car. The weather had turned even colder.
He pulled out onto the street. “I don’t want to scare you, but the roads are really bad,” Ryan said. “They’re asking people to stay off them if at all possible.”
Should they not be out? It was too late now. They were on their way.
The main roads had been salted earlier in the evening. As usual, the news reports were overly dramatic. She relaxed into the warm seat. They chatted about their favorite Christmas movies which turned into best Christmas songs. He’s so much fun to be around.
The road up to Queen Anne was a steep climb. Trees blocked any light from the clear sky. They hit a patch of ice. The car spun in a wide circle, careening into the other side of the road. She gripped the grab handle and held her breath. Finally, the car stopped moving.
“Shit. I’ve got to get us out of here,” Ryan said. “You okay?”
She nodded. “A little freaked out.”
He inched the car forward until the
y faced the right direction. They crawled up the hill. “If we get home safe, we can’t go out again.” He looked over at her. “I have a guest room, so don’t think that means anything.”
Before she could answer, they slid again into the other side of the road. Fortunately, again, no one was on the opposite side of the road. She yelped. They headed directly for the embankment. This time they would crash. She knew it. At the last second, Ryan got control of the car. They sat for a moment, both breathing heavily. “We’re almost there,” he said. They inched along until they reached the top of the hill. She’d never been so happy to see the lights of town.
A few minutes later, they arrived at his house. She let out a deep breath.
“I’m not gonna lie, that was scary,” she said.
“For me too. I should’ve told you to bring your PJ’s.”
They were here. Nothing more to worry about. Except she didn’t have her toothbrush. But all night here with him. A distinct feeling of lust replaced the fright she’d just experienced. It was way too soon to hop into bed with him, plus Morgan was probably there. Or was she? His mother’s car wasn’t in the driveway. “Where’s Morgan?”
“She’s with my sister. They do this every year. Shopping and a sleepover. I forgot it was tonight until she reminded me last night.”
“So, we’re all alone?”
He took her hand. “No pressure. Okay?”
She nodded. Maybe she wanted pressure. Maybe she wanted a whole lot of pressure.
Once inside, she shed her coat and knelt to give Tinsel a hug. She grinned at Rena and wagged her tail as if to say, it’s about time you got here.
The house smelled of garlic and tomatoes. “Homemade sauce?” she asked.
He grinned. “My specialty.”
“My stomach just growled.”
After they gave Tinsel her dinner, the puppy curled up in her dog bed by the fire and fell fast asleep. They ate in the dining room and shared a bottle of wine and heaps of spaghetti and meat sauce. She could hardly eat. She was here in Ryan’s house. Alone. Thank you, Crazy Santa.
When they’d eaten enough, she helped Ryan clean the kitchen. He opened another bottle of wine, and they settled their backs against the couch and put their feet near the fire. She shared some of her ideas for her business. He encouraged her to think about taking out a small business loan.
Romancing the Holidays: Twelve Christmas Romances - Benefits Breast Cancer Research Page 58
