Noelle

by Greg Kincaid

  “I don’t have that much experience being married to a celebrity who dresses like she’s from the North Pole and pilots a sled.”

  “George?” Mary Ann asked in a serious way.

  He knew what she needed to hear. If he’d been sitting on the fence, Mary Ann was forcing him to make a choice. In the end he didn’t care if he did have reservations about the concept of Anna Claus. There was only one thing that mattered. “You’ve supported Santa for years. It’s Santa’s turn to support Mrs. Claus. If you’re good with it, I’m good with it.”

  Mary Ann pulled into the driveway and looked out over the farm where she’d spent her entire adult life. A barn owl lifted his wings, moved off the fence, and ascended into the sky. It was just too late to turn back. Not now. “George?”

  “Yes?” he answered.

  “Ho. Ho. Ho.”

  She pushed the red button and ended the call.

  George set his own phone down. When two large creeks come together at a fork, you usually get a river. When a wife decides to become Mother Christmas…well, he still wasn’t sure what you get. They would have to find a way to make it work—together.

  Keenan didn’t understand the mood that shrouded him like a late-night fog, how to escape it, or even where the light had gone. He had neither the vocabulary to describe it nor the insight to understand it. All he could verbalize was that things didn’t seem fair. Life seemed heavy and the air thick, hard to breathe. He knew about kid rules. The things that were expected of him. You can’t step out of bounds. You run the bases in order, turn your homework in on time, and don’t talk in class. How come his parents weren’t playing by the adult rules? Not anymore. It made him feel like the game—the family game, the life game—was all a giant lie. When the rules went out the window, so did his security. What was the point of learning these new rules? When the old rules could suddenly and inexplicably be tossed aside, couldn’t the new rules suffer the same fate?

  The center pole of Kennan’s life had been knocked loose and was teetering, and it felt as if there was nothing and no one he could count on. Not anymore.

  Up was down. Down was up.

  When he felt like this, he just wanted to be home with his mother. That’s the way it is with seven-year-old boys. Instead he’d been sent away again, this time to the McCray house. While Mrs. McCray set the table for dinner, he sat in the living room with his sister and Mr. McCray and watched SpongeBob. Mr. McCray seemed nice enough, but he didn’t talk a lot, though he was laughing along with Emily at SpongeBob and Patrick. They had an old dog that seemed okay, but he barely moved and didn’t seem that interesting.

  Mr. McCray asked Keenan’s sister, “What is this show called again, Emily? I think I need to start watching it!” Old grown-ups were strange, thought Keenan. Everyone knew about SpongeBob. Well, at least the lasagna smelled good, and he was hungry.

  When SpongeBob was over, Emily got her coloring book out of her PAW Patrol backpack and George sat beside her and watched as she carefully colored one of her handouts from school. When it was finished, she gave to him. “It’s for you.”

  It was a picture of a Christmas tree, with lights on it and gifts beneath it. “Wow,” George said. “For me?”

  Emily nodded her head up and down. “Yes.”

  George went to the desk in the living room and took a paper clip and poked it through the top of the picture and walked over to the still-bare Christmas tree and hung their first ornament; the rest were still in the boxes. He stared for a second at the empty tree and said to Emily, “Well, if you only have one decoration, that’s sure a good one.”

  After dinner George excused himself, and Mary Ann asked Keenan and Emily if they would like to ride her horse, Lady Luck. Emily shot out of the kitchen chair, raised her hand, and jumped up and down screaming, “Yes! Yes! Please, please, please!”

  Mary Ann looked at Keenan. He didn’t like it when people looked at him. He wanted to shout, Don’t look at me! but knew that would be rude. There were easier ways to make her leave him alone. “I don’t like horses.”

  Mary Ann offered a reassuring smile. “No problem, Keenan. Why don’t you just come along and watch?”

  George came back into the kitchen. He had his Water District 12 quarterly board meeting in Crossing Trails that evening and was headed out. For the occasion he’d spent the obligatory extra two minutes getting ready. His hair was combed back, and he was trying a new style, wearing his western shirt untucked the way their boys did. Mary Ann liked it that George still put some stock in appearing neat. She asked him as he walked past her, “Much new with water these days?”

  He grabbed his jacket from the hook in the mudroom and said, “We’ll have a committee report, but I’m betting that it’s still wet.” He jangled his car keys. “I’ll be back around eight.” After the headlights disappeared into the night, Mary Ann quickly cleaned up the dishes, helped the children with their coats and gloves, and left for the barn. The old Lab, Christmas, was in tow.

  After removing Lady Luck from her stall and snapping the lead line on her halter, Mary Ann took the bareback saddle, centered it carefully on top of the mare, and cinched it tightly.

  George had forgotten to turn off the old radio they kept in the barn, and it played a litany of Christmas tunes. Mary Ann hummed along. Except for a small workshop, the rest of the barn wasn’t heated, so the kids remained bundled up to protect them from the cold night air.

  Emily leaned against Mary Ann’s leg, clutching the fabric of her jeans—seemingly ready to leap up onto Lady Luck and gallop off into the moonlight. The little girl excitedly shifted her weight back and forth. She loved everything about horses but thought the saddle strange—nothing more than a pad, a cinch, two lightweight stirrups, and a white nylon loop at the front, for a handle. It wasn’t like other saddles she’d seen.

  When the saddle was tight around the mare’s girth, Mary Ann adjusted the stirrups to their shortest position. She tested the saddle again. Sure enough, it was loose. The mare was smart; she’d been holding her breath to keep her chest cavity expanded. Mary Ann waited for Lady Luck to exhale and tightened the girth again.

  She glanced at Keenan. He was acting bored, sitting cross-legged, leaning against a barn wall, tracing something on the ground with a stick. Christmas was snoozing a few feet away. Mary Ann insisted, “Keenan, there’s a lot of machinery in the barn. It can be dangerous. You have to sit there while Emily rides the horse. Okay?”

  He looked up at her and simply nodded.

  “Emily, are you ready to take a spin on Lady Luck?”

  The little girl leaped into Mary Ann’s arms. Mary Ann appreciated her enthusiasm and swung her around, both with excited smiles on their faces. “Here we go.”

  Mary Ann gently set Emily on the back of the horse. The child’s eyes instantly widened with anticipation. “Hold on to her mane with both hands.” Emily ran her fingers through the wiry hair and held on tightly. Mary Ann placed Emily’s feet into the stirrups. Emily shifted her weight until she found balance on the horse’s back. When she was comfortable, she leaned far forward and tried to get her arms all the way around Lady Luck’s neck for an enormous hug.

  The mare turned around and gazed at Mary Ann. Are you going to just stand there and let this kid strangle me?

  Mary Ann untied the lead. “Okay, honey, lean back, and we’ll take a ride around the barn.”

  With so many grandchildren in the family, Lady Luck had the routine down. She shuffled lazily to and fro, up and down, across the span of the old barn’s central corridor. After four or five passes, Mary Ann stopped in front of Keenan. “You could get on, too.”

  He shook his head. “No thanks.” Then he added, for the second time that evening, “I don’t like horses.” Keenan returned to poking and probing the earthen floor and wondering how he could get out of going to his father’s apartment for their first scheduled Wednesday overnight. The apartment was small, it smelled funny, and it didn’t feel like home. His father seem
ed perpetually angry.

  Mary Ann heard a car pull into the driveway but wasn’t sure who it was. A few moments later, a car door slammed. She could tell from the familiar creaking noise that it was the old blue GMC. The north door of the barn opened, and Todd walked in with Elle on a leash.

  Mary Ann had forgotten that she’d promised to dog-sit Elle for a few days. She tried to keep a positive face, but caring for that dog was the last thing she needed right now. Her plate was past full. Perfectly good mashed potatoes and gravy were already falling off the edges of her life. Todd waved hello to his mother and sat down beside Keenan. She yelled out to him from the other end of the barn, “Hey, Todd! That’s Keenan.”

  Todd introduced himself to Keenan. “My name is Todd, and this is Elle.” The dog immediately climbed onto the boy’s lap, attempting to lick Keenan’s face.

  “Yuck.” He pushed her away and asked Todd, “Why do dogs lick so much?”

  “It’s part of their greeting routine. It’s her way of saying, ‘Nice to meet you.’ Also, I think maybe there’s salt on our skin, and they like the taste of it.”

  “I wish they would just wag their tails or hold out their paws.”

  Elle wiggled and squirmed until she was belly-up on Keenan’s lap. Her oversize head was flopped over Keenan’s knees, and her little right leg started scratching furiously at the air. “What’s wrong with her leg?” he asked.

  “Nothing. It’s an invitation. She’d like it if you would scratch her stomach. She can’t get to it. Her legs are too short. It’s a treat when someone does it for her. It’s a good way to make friends with her.”

  Keenan put his right hand tentatively on the dog’s abdomen and made circular motions, as if waxing a car. “Like this?” he asked.

  “No, more like you’d scratch your own back.” Todd leaned over and used his fingertips to make quick back-and-forth motions, nearly synchronized to her little hind legs.

  “How did you learn so much about dogs?” Keenan asked.

  “I work at the animal shelter. That’s my job.”

  When Todd stopped scratching, Keenan tried to imitate him. “Like this?” he asked again.

  “Perfect.”

  Keenan thought it important to make it very clear that he wasn’t going to enjoy this. “I don’t like dogs.”

  “Really?” Todd had never heard of a kid who didn’t like dogs. “Why’s that?”

  “Why should I?” Keenan retorted.

  “You can always count on dogs.”

  Keenan shrugged. “Really?”

  Todd put one of Elle’s paws between his thumb and index finger and rubbed it gently. “Sure. And they’re fun, too.”

  —

  Once Mary Ann was certain that Emily was secure, she decided to go for the big thrill—let the mare accelerate to a brief trot around the exterior corral that was attached to the south side of the barn. She slid the big barn door open and turned on the exterior floodlights. “Would you like to go a little faster?”

  Mary Ann might as well have given Emily wings and told her she could fly. “Can we really?”

  “Yes we can.” Lady Luck had a jarring trot, and Emily bounced up and down like a sack of seed potatoes on a pack mule headed to the bottom of the Grand Canyon. That did not, however, seem to matter much. Emily dug her hands deep into the mare’s mane and held on tightly. She laughed. “It’s bouncy!”

  After the fourth lap, Mary Ann was out of breath and slowed to a stop. For her part, Emily was ready to pitch a tent on top of Lady Luck and take up permanent residence. “Emily, you’re a natural. Would you like to come out another day and ride some more?”

  Emily looked down at Mary Ann, leaned forward to hug Lady Luck again, and pondered for a moment before answering. “Tomorrow?”

  Mary Ann pulled the little girl off the horse and embraced her warmly. Of all the things in the world she loved, children just might be at the top of the list. “You’re always welcome, honey. But tomorrow might be a little soon. Maybe next week. We’ll talk to your mom.” She hesitated, then added, “And your dad, too.”

  Emily’s arms had no problem reaching around Mary Ann’s neck, so she clung there while they walked back into the barn. Mary Ann trusted Lady Luck to follow behind, but still she kept her on the lead. Emily whispered, like it was a secret, “We’re going to my dad’s house tonight.” She paused and added, as if some elaboration were necessary, “To spend the night.”

  Mary Ann stopped and shifted Emily’s weight higher onto her hip. “That sounds like fun.”

  Emily softened her whisper to a point where it was hard for Mary Ann to hear her. “If anyone makes Keenan go to Daddy’s house, he’s gonna run away.” She added, “And, never come back. Not even for his birthday or Christmas.”

  Mary Ann looked into Emily’s soft brown eyes and asked her, “Is that what he told you?”

  “Yes, but don’t tell Mommy, because it’s a secret.”

  Great, Mary Ann thought. On top of everything else, now the poor thing had to worry about losing her brother, too—as if a distracted mother, an absent father, and an unraveling family weren’t enough. She held the child with the same delicate care she might give a bird with a broken wing. “Don’t worry. Sometimes boys say things like that. They don’t mean it. It’s just how they feel.” While she hoped it was just bold talk, she might have to caution Keenan’s parents.

  Emily rested her head on Mary Ann’s shoulder as they entered the barn together. Todd was gone, but Elle had remained behind. Keenan held Elle’s leash in one hand and practiced the scratching motion with the other. As he scratched, the lips of Elle’s mouth lifted, exposing her gums. Keenan couldn’t believe it. The dog was smiling. He’d never seen a dog smile before.

  When Elle saw Mary Ann and the horse approach, she righted herself from her upside-down position, scampered off Keenan’s lap, ran as far as the leash allowed, and started barking nervously at the horse. Mary Ann was afraid the racket might startle Lady Luck, so she tried to quiet her. “No. Elle.” Then, “Quiet!” The dog seemed to know she was in trouble with the Mistress of the Barn, so she scampered back onto Keenan’s lap—a safe place for a furry little mutt.

  Keenan could feel the dog tremble with fear, so he held her closer. He thought he knew the problem, so he confided to Elle, “I don’t like horses that much either.”

  Elle remained on Keenan’s lap until Lady Luck was safely in her stall and the big sliding stall door was firmly closed and bolted shut. Keenan turned Elle over and scratched. He waited and then started giggling. She was smiling again. Todd was right. Dogs were fun.

  Every time George took Hank Fisher to a Water District 12 board meeting, he wondered if this trip would be their last. It was very difficult for Hank to get out of the house and into the car. The worst part of it was that George knew that someday he could be as old and as infirm as Hank. Looking at Hank was like having a frightening premonition.

  When George and Hank were first asked to serve on the board, so many years ago, it was an important civic function. Until 1978 there’d been no public water source. Every farm had to find its own—lakes, ponds, rivers, wells, cisterns—and when the wells went dry, you trucked it home in large thousand-gallon water tanks strapped to your truck bed. Now, having water to drink seemed as natural as having air to breathe. No one thought much about it.

  Hank enjoyed these outings with George. Physically taxing, but it did him good to get out of the house. “So?” Hank asked, diverting the conversation away from the inevitable inquiries about his own health. “What’s it like being married to a celebrity?”

  “You’ve seen the papers?” George asked. He reached down, picked up a newspaper, and set it on the console. “This is the third story in two weeks. The whole thing seems to be growing faster than any of us thought possible.”

  “Yep. I read it. Forty-two invitations in six different states—impressive.”

  George took his eyes off the highway for a moment and glanced over at Hank, irritat
ed. “No, that’s not right. Not anymore. That article was written four days ago now. The phone has rung plenty since then. I’m sure it’s well over a hundred requests by now—from Abilene to Dodge City, folks want Anna Claus. I’m about ready to just stop answering the phone.”

  Hank shook his head. “I gotta admit. When she first told me about it, I wasn’t so sure this whole idea of hers would work, but I wanted to be encouraging. You know how much I love Mary Ann, and I know she was just trying to help. Still, I figured kids would want Santa. End of story.”

  “It’s taken us both by surprise. It’s been a bit rocky.”

  Hank looked surprised. “What do you mean? Seems like a success to me. And trust me, George, Santa’s not jealous of the attention Mrs. Claus is getting. He wouldn’t be up for all that ruckus with the TV people and the newspapers.”

  “Well, don’t get me wrong. I think Mary Ann is the best Anna Claus on the face of the earth. But changing traditions, dumping Santa to make room for Anna…I guess it’s natural to feel some sense of loss.”

  “You mean another tradition out the window?”

  “I guess.”

  Hank took a minute and tried to identify with George’s concern. He thought he knew the feeling. He had felt something similar himself recently. “Last Tuesday morning the physical therapist drove out here and took me to the rehab center in Crossing Trails. She’s trying to help me get around better, using the walker. As we were driving into town, there was a group of kids waiting for the school bus on the corner of Moon Light and Waverly Road. Older kids, mostly high-school kids. George, it was the darn strangest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  George could guess what Hank had seen. He’d seen it, too. But he asked anyway. “What was it?”

  “All these neighbor kids were standing there together, but they weren’t talking to each other. They weren’t laughing, playing, shoving, throwing snowballs, or doing anything that kids do. It was like they were complete strangers or in some trance. There were six of them, including those two Kirk girls and the Lowe brood. Each of them was looking into their phone, like something was inside it that was more interesting than anything or anyone that might be standing right next to them—outside, here, in the real world.”