The Lodge on Holly Road

by Sheila Roberts

  He hefted the bag over his shoulder and went out the door, bubbling over with holiday cheer. Back down the stairs, across the lobby, down the hall. Now he could hear the burble of voices coming out to him from the dining room. He strode through the double doors and produced a hearty, “Ho, ho, ho.”

  “Santa!” cried little Lalla. She jumped from her seat and threaded her way through the tables at a run, her mother after her. “Santa, Santa!”

  Too bad nobody was capturing this on film, James thought, watching the child dart toward him. She was the embodiment of the holiday in her little red dress, which, as she got closer, he saw had chocolate frosting stains on it. The cheap tiara on her head was askew and her cornrows were bouncing in all directions. Her smile lit up her entire face.

  James was ready for her. He set down his bag of goodies, knelt and opened his arms wide, letting the child run into them. “Well, if it isn’t Lalla Monroe,” he said. “And don’t you look pretty tonight.”

  “I knew you’d find us,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him fiercely.

  “Lalla, you’re going to choke Santa,” her mother cautioned.

  “She’s okay,” James said. “Do you know what I have in my sack?” he asked the child.

  “Presents!”

  “That’s right. I have presents for everyone here.”

  “Where’s my grandma?” she asked, peering around the room.

  “Oh, don’t you worry about that,” James told her. “Old Santa isn’t going to let you down. But first, would you like to help me give out some presents?” She nodded eagerly and he set her down. “All right, then.” He stood and slung his bag of goodies over his back again and held out a hand to the child. “Why don’t you come along with me and you can give all the people here their gifts.”

  Lalla grinned, and her mother thanked him, then returned to her table. James positioned himself in the middle of the room and dug a present out of his sack. “Well, it looks like I have something here for Vera Winston.”

  Vera brought a hand to her chest in surprise.

  “You didn’t come sit on my lap this year,” James teased, making her giggle and her friend roll her eyes. “But I have a gift for you, anyway.” He gave the small present to Lalla. “Can you deliver this for Santa?”

  Lalla nodded solemnly and walked over with the present.

  “Thank you, Santa,” said Vera. “And thank you, Lalla.”

  “I like helping,” Lalla said.

  “And, oh, look, even though I suspect your partner in crime has been a little naughty this year, Santa has something for her, too.” James walked the present over and delivered it, and Jane smiled in delight.

  And so it went, James making the rounds, dropping off presents with Lalla as his able assistant. Finally there were only three presents left in the sack.

  James took out one of the games. It wasn’t hard to tell that this one was for Lalla since Brooke had wrapped it in paper decorated with little girl angels. “Let’s see what I have here. Oh, something for Lalla.”

  “For me?”

  “You have been a good little girl, haven’t you?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “Then this is for you.”

  She took the present and hugged it to her. “Thank you, Santa.” Then her smile faltered. “I guess I didn’t get a grandma.”

  Olivia had seated herself at a nearby table and now she came up to Lalla and slipped an arm around her. “Lalla, I’m the other half of your present. I’m going to be your grandma tomorrow and we’re going to bake cookies. Would you like that?”

  Lalla smiled, wide-eyed, and Olivia went back to her chair and pulled the child onto her lap.

  Meanwhile, her brother sat sullenly in his seat, determined to be a tough sell. James removed the other game from his sack and walked up to Carlos. “I have something for you, too, young man.”

  “Thanks,” the boy mumbled, and accepted the gift. No smile.

  “But that’s not the real present.” James turned and motioned to where Eric Wallace had positioned himself outside on the patio. Eric opened one of the big glass doors and came in with the dog on a leash, a big red ribbon around his neck. The boy let out a gasp.

  “I think you wanted a dog for Christmas,” James said.

  The words weren’t even out of his mouth before Carlos was racing over to the animal. The dog caught his enthusiasm and, overjoyed, jumped on him, taking him down and licking him, the boy’s delighted laughter filling the room. Meanwhile, the guests all clapped and smiled. Oh, yeah, as the old commercial said, it was a real Kodak moment.

  James looked in Missy’s direction, expecting a smile. No smile. Not even a hint of a smile. In fact, she seemed ready to cry. Uh-oh.

  * * *

  Brooke had gotten a glass of water, then sat in a chair for a few minutes, just to see how she was feeling. Well, it could be worse, that was for sure. Still, how disappointing. Christmas Eve, and what was she doing? Crawling out from the black hole of a migraine. Thank God she’d brought her pills and taken them in time. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have surfaced until after Christmas Day. The worst of it was gone, but she still felt as if she’d been hit by a truck. This wasn’t the kind of Christmas memory she wanted. Well, she’d go downstairs, get herself a cup of tea and watch Santa in action. That would perk her up.

  Santa...presents...kids...dog! She’d never told Missy about the dog! Missy wouldn’t know they’d gotten her landlady’s permission for her to have a dog, wouldn’t know that pet insurance, obedience training and a year’s worth of dog food were taken care of. What would she do when she saw her son’s present from Santa? What would she say to her son? Oh, this wasn’t good.

  Brooke bolted from her chair and dashed for the door. She hoped she got down to the dining room before Santa wound up with the Christmas equivalent of a pie in the face.

  * * *

  “What are you going to name your dog?” Eric Wallace asked Carlos as he handed him the leash.

  “Buddy,” Carlos said enthusiastically. “You like that name, boy?”

  The dog barked and wagged his tail. Yep, over at that end of the dining hall it was a perfect holiday picture. Not so much where Missy was standing, though. Brooke must not have had a chance to give her the good news.

  James hurried to tell her, but he wasn’t fast enough. She’d already joined her son and was bending over him, talking to him, her voice low, her expression pained.

  “Wait!” James called, but he was too late.

  Carlos glared at his mother, then got to his feet, yanked open the glass door and ran outside, taking the dog with him. Missy rushed out after them, and the rest of the diners exchanged glances.

  “Oh, dear,” Vera said.

  Oh, dear was right.

  And now Brooke had arrived. “Oh, no,” she groaned.

  “Don’t worry,” James told her. “Your brother’s on it.” Sure enough, Dylan was out the door in hot pursuit, and behind him came Eric Wallace, now carrying a flashlight.

  Brooke sighed heavily. “I’m so sorry. I just couldn’t find her this afternoon. And then...”

  “I know,” James said, giving her arm a comforting pat. “It’ll be okay.”

  “Did I miss the other presentation?” she asked, lowering her voice.

  “No, you’re just in time.” At least that should go off without a hitch.

  * * *

  Oh, man. Poor Missy. Too bad John hadn’t heard what everyone was planning. He could’ve told Mr. Claussen that Missy wasn’t allowed to have dogs where she lived. Here she’d arranged this special Christmas for her kids and now it was wrecked.

  “How embarrassing,” Holland said. “That’s why people shouldn’t plan surprises for other people.”

  Uh-oh. “Not all surprises
are bad,” John argued.

  “No, not all,” she agreed.

  “I mean, coming up here was a good surprise...wasn’t it?”

  “Yeah. Except it wasn’t a total surprise. I knew we were coming.” She shook her head. “I feel sorry for her, being publicly embarrassed like that.”

  John suspected embarrassment was the least of Missy’s concerns. “I hope they can work it out.” He wished there was something he could do. He’d offer to keep the dog for Missy, but his condo didn’t allow dogs over thirty pounds and that one was way over the limit.

  “How hard being stuck raising kids on her own,” Holland said, showing her softer side and confirming to John that he had, indeed, picked the right woman. “I’d hate to be her, especially now.”

  And with no one to comfort her. Tidings of comfort and joy, where were they when you needed them? He wished again that he could come up with some brilliant idea. Maybe tomorrow he and Holland could put their heads together and think of something. It didn’t seem fair for him to be so happy when a nice woman like Missy was so miserable. Tomorrow, for sure, they’d figure out how to help her, he vowed. It was Christmas. He wanted everyone to be as happy as he was.

  * * *

  Carlos was like a dart, one minute visible in the pool of light surrounding the lodge, and the next swallowed in the darkness of the woods. Frantically calling his name, Missy dashed after her son, the cold biting her arms even as parental guilt gnawed at her heart. Choosing that moment to tell Carlos they couldn’t keep the dog had been dumb. She should have at least let him enjoy the animal tonight and found a way to break the bad news in the morning. Now she’d ruined his Christmas beyond repair. And, on top of that, he’d probably catch a cold running around out here in just his jeans and that lightweight red sweatshirt. Or worse. He could easily get lost. She was already half-lost herself. God help her, she was a terrible parent.

  “Carlos!” she shouted. “Come back!” Of course he didn’t and she could hardly blame him. Tears of reproach streamed down her cheeks. “Carlos!”

  She could hear other voices calling her son now, too—Dylan Claussen’s from somewhere off to her left, and Eric Wallace’s.

  An arc of light from an approaching flashlight searched the trees and then Eric ran past her in long-legged strides, calling over his shoulder, “Don’t worry, we’ll find him.”

  It was so dark out here in the woods. She called her son again but he didn’t answer. The moments seemed to stretch into eternity. Finally she heard the dog bark. She picked up her pace, stumbling through the snow.

  Relief flooded her when the arc of light from the flashlight broke through the trees and she saw Eric approaching, holding Carlos, who was now wrapped in Eric’s coat, howling like a banshee and squirming to get away, the dog frolicking beside them. Missy understood that feeling. She’d had her share of times growing up when she’d wanted to run away, too.

  She hurried over to them and fell in front of him, throwing her arms around him. “Baby, you can’t go running off like that,” she said to Carlos.

  He jerked away from her. “I hate you!”

  She’d said the same thing to her own mother when Mom had tied one on the Christmas Eve Missy was twelve. She’d been too old for Santa by then. But she’d still longed for the kind of traditional Christmas other people enjoyed and had tried her best to bring it about. She’d walked to the food bank, where she’d scored Christmas cookies and a ham from the friendly volunteer who knew her and her mother. She’d even found a candle at the local Goodwill store, which she’d wrapped with red ribbon and put under a tiny, scraggly tree. She’d found it at the edge of their public housing development, uprooted it and stuck it in a pail.

  But Mom had never gotten around to putting anything there for her. And Mom had slept away Christmas morning. When she’d finally emerged from her bedroom she’d been hungover and cranky. And it didn’t matter that they had a small ham to feast on. Or that Mom swore she had something for Missy back in the bedroom, that she just had to remember what she’d done with it. The day was ruined.

  “I hate you,” Missy had snarled. “I wish you weren’t my mom.”

  Now history was repeating itself.

  No, no, no. It wasn’t! She wasn’t her mother, and she was working hard to give her kids a good childhood. And Christmas was not going to be ruined.

  “Carlos, you know we can’t have a dog where we live,” she began.

  “I hate where we live,” he cried. “I hate you.”

  “Well, I love you,” she said, “and I’m going to try my best to find a way for us to keep Buddy. Okay?” Maybe the dog could stay with her friend Miranda, just until Missy could find someplace that took pets. And that she could afford. Oh, boy. Where would that be?

  Carlos looked at her, his lower lip trembling, his eyes full of hope. “For sure?”

  “For sure.”

  He threw himself into her arms. “Thank you, Mom!”

  She hugged him tightly. “You’re welcome. But remember, I said I’m going to try. That’s all I can do.”

  “It’s not going to be as hard as you think to keep this dog,” Eric told her as Dylan Claussen joined them.

  “Oh, good,” Dylan panted, “you found him. So Eric told you?” he asked Missy.

  “I was just about to,” said Eric.

  She looked from one man to the other. “Told me what?”

  “Santa talked to your landlady,” Dylan explained. “She said you can have a dog. And this guy comes with pet insurance, obedience training and about fifty bags of dog food. And, if you don’t have a fence, that, too.”

  “Or an invisible fence,” Eric said. “That might be better.”

  She blinked. Then she tried to speak, but found it impossible. Then she burst into tears.

  “Hey, it’s okay,” Dylan said, slipping off his coat and putting it over her shoulders.

  He had no idea how incredibly okay it was. “Who did this?” she asked.

  The two men exchanged grins. “Santa, of course,” Dylan said.

  Once the lodge was in sight, Eric gave the leash back to Carlos. “Okay, now, be firm. He needs to know who the big dog is.”

  Carlos took it and laughingly shoved away the friendly mutt, who was slobbering dog kisses on him.

  “Take him down where the game room is, okay?” Eric said.

  “Right,” Carlos said happily. “Come on, boy.” And then he was off, running back to the lodge, none the worse for his adventure.

  “There’s no way I can repay you all for this,” Missy began.

  “Hey, you don’t repay Santa,” Dylan said. “Everybody knows that. Come on, let’s get back inside before we freeze our asses off.”

  She couldn’t possibly freeze, not with the holiday glow she was feeling now.

  * * *

  It was hard to stay in character after what had happened with the dog, but Santa couldn’t stop now, not with one more important gift to deliver. Hopefully, Dylan had that situation well in hand. Meanwhile, at least this delivery would have a positive outcome. No young man proposed publicly to a woman unless he was sure of her answer.

  James forced the jovial smile back on his face and walked over to where John Truman sat with his girlfriend. “Santa still has one more present in his sack.” He reached in and pulled out the black velvet ring box wrapped in red ribbon and set it on the table, next to the girlfriend.

  Her eyes got big and she put a hand to her mouth. So, the boy had managed to surprise her.

  John leaned forward eagerly. “Open it, Holland.”

  She was obviously aware of an entire dining room full of people looking on and her face turned crimson. Instead of opening the box, she shook her head and fled the table.

  Stunned silence descended on the room as John stared in shock, first at the
abandoned ring box and then at his departing girlfriend.

  “You’d better go after her, son,” James said gently.

  John came to life as if someone had jabbed him with a sprig of holly. He grabbed the ring box and sprinted out of the dining room.

  Now Brooke was by James’s side. “Daddy, what happened?”

  “I think our young man misjudged his girlfriend’s level of commitment. And I think Santa’s done for the night. I’m going to go change.” And with that, James took his empty bag and escaped from the dining room. Santa has left the building.

  * * *

  John caught up with Holland on the stairs. “Holland, wait!”

  She kept right on going. “That was so embarrassing, John. What were you thinking?”

  Was she serious? “What do you mean, what was I thinking?” Now they were in the hallway. He grasped her arm and stopped her. “I was thinking I want you to marry me. I was thinking I wanted to ask you in a really special way.”

  She shook her head again. “I can’t marry you.”

  His hand fell to his side. “You...can’t? I don’t understand. I thought we were...”

  “Dating. That’s all.”

  “Yeah, but...” But what? He hardly knew what to say to that. “I don’t get it. I thought we were serious.”

  “You were serious,” she corrected him, and started for their room.

  He followed her, feeling like a whipped puppy.

  Once inside the room, she said, “John, I’m sorry. I assumed we were just coming up here for some fun.”

  He fell onto the bed. “We were. But damn it all, Holland, I thought we were...together.”

  She was looking out the window, at the fireplace, her suitcase, everywhere but at him. “I don’t think we’re really a fit.”

  “You’ve been going out with me for how many months and you’ve just decided this?” Wait a minute. There had to be more to the story. “How long have you felt this way?”

  She gave a one-shouldered shrug. “I don’t know. Just...lately.”