Christmas in Destiny

by Toni Blake

  “The only problem is that now you won’t need me to keep your hands warm,” she teased.

  “Don’t worry, Candy,” he said. “You can keep other parts of me warm.” He winked, and she laughed.

  Then she whispered up to him, “That will definitely be my pleasure.”

  He raised his eyebrows suggestively. “You’re making me want to blow off this party and head straight to your house.”

  But another trill of her soft laughter filled the air as she said, “No way, mister. I’m the hostess of this soiree and I’ll be here ’til the last person is done skating or caroling. Now come on—let’s teach you how to ice-skate.”

  At this, he cocked his head. “Uh, no thanks. Not my thing, honey.”

  Yet she just shrugged. “Neither was Christmas. Neither were Christmas trees. But look at you now. Things change, and it’s time for this to change, too.”

  “I don’t have any skates,” he told her triumphantly, knowing that would solve the problem.

  Which was when Logan Whitaker stepped up, two worn brown leather ice skates dangling from his fingertips. “Here, buddy, borrow mine. I’m all done and ready to head inside and warm up.”

  Shit. “We’re probably not the same size,” Shane told him. “I’m a ten and a half.”

  A smile spread across Logan’s face. “Me too.”

  “It’s a Christmas miracle,” Candy announced.

  “They’re all around,” Logan’s wife, Amy, said from behind him then.

  Shane still didn’t make a move to accept the offered skates—but he didn’t have to, because Candy reached out and took them anyway, thanking Logan for the loan. And Shane realized that he could put up a fight about this and look like a jerk to a woman—and a whole town—who’d been pretty damn good to him. Or he could just roll with it. The way he’d ended up rolling with everything else since he’d gotten here. And which, much as he hated to admit it, even to himself, had turned out . . . pretty okay. Pretty damn okay.

  Ten minutes later, he and Candy were all laced into the skates, and everything was fine—until they stood up, both teetering on thin blades that seemed impossible to balance upon. He glanced over at her, a little confused. “Um, why don’t you look any better at this than I do?”

  “I was never exactly very good at it,” she said with a shrug. “And it’s been a while.”

  He scrunched his nose lightly, a little perplexed. “Then why are we doing this?”

  “Because it’s fun,” she informed him, clearly trying to sound convincing.

  As they moved clumsily from the dock down onto the ice, hanging on to each other for dear life, he grumbled under his breath, “I can think of a lot of better ways to have fun with you.” And as they started out onto the frozen lake with the other skaters, Shane felt like a baby calf on brand new, wobbly legs. Candy truly wasn’t any more skilled at this than he was and he thought they must look ridiculous, since it was like the blind leading the blind.

  And he’d just begun to wonder, again, why on earth they were doing it—when he understood why. When he realized they were laughing together. When he realized they were holding hands—or grabbing on to each other’s coats, arms, waists, to try to keep from falling. When he realized that they hadn’t ever actually fallen, though—and were in fact still on their teetering feet.

  And soon enough, they were side by side, holding hands and beginning to glide slightly forward, pushing one skate gingerly in front of the other, and Shane said, “Hey, we’re kind of doing it. We’re skating.”

  “See?” she said, giggling. “I told you—it’s fun!”

  And that was when he heard the faint jingle of sleigh bells somewhere in the distance, growing louder, closer—and they both looked up to see a magical sight: Santa Claus had just rounded the bend on Blue Valley Road in a horse-drawn sleigh.

  Eighteen

  “Isn’t it wonderful? Merry Christmas!”

  George Bailey, It’s a Wonderful Life

  Gasps filled the wintry air, but no one said a word as Grampy Hoskins, in full Santa regalia, drew nearer. The bells on the horse and sleigh continued jingle-jangling as Grampy called out a hearty, “Ho-ho-ho! Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!”

  As Shane had told Candy, he’d never been a big fan of this holiday, and he could scarcely remember a time when he believed in something as simple and pure as a red-suited old man who delivered toys and joy to children on Christmas Eve for no good reason. But for a few brief seconds, some childlike part of him almost had faith in that kind of magic, somehow feeling it all around them in the crisp, cold breeze.

  Across the road, adults and children alike came out from the house and the garden to stare in awe at the approaching sleigh.

  “It’s Santa! He’s here! He’s here!” a little boy could be heard saying from the yard.

  He and Candy had come to a silent stop on the ice, and now he looked down to see the woman at his side beaming up at him. “You did this,” she said softly.

  “What?” he asked. “Me?”

  She nodded. “Yes, of course you. It was all your idea for Santa to arrive in the sleigh.”

  Oh. Yeah. He’d almost forgotten that somehow.

  “And it’s amazing.”

  And with that, she looped her arms around his neck and pulled him down into a long, hot kiss. Maybe the best kiss of his life. Even while wobbling on a pair of thin metal blades on an ice-covered lake. Because her mouth was warm. Her whole body was hot. And because he’d never been kissed for thinking of something amazing before.

  To his utter surprise, Shane was almost sorry the ice-skating had to end—but there was business to be done, as in orchestrating the whole visit from Santa. There were little kids to line up, and small gifts to hand out from a big red drawstring sack on the sleigh pre-packed with them. So they hurried to get their shoes back on and reached the road in time to watch Grampy make a grand entrance with more ho-ho-ho-ing and, “Heard there was some little children gathered here today a wantin’ to meet me and tell me what they want in their stockin’s—am I in the right place?”

  As he disembarked from the sleigh carrying the red bag, Shane and Candy joined him, escorting him toward the house as he told the kids gathering around, “Santa needs to head inside for just a minute, but I’ll be out in the garden real soon.”

  The plan was for Shane to stick with Grampy while he rested inside briefly, making sure his beard and the rest of his costume was still in place before he started officially greeting a long line of children. Candy would get the kids lined up and act as a sort of non-costumed elf for the duration.

  Grampy seemed in fine spirits—and when he passed Edna near the cookie table, Shane noticed they exchanged smiles.

  “Good to see ya, Santa,” she told him with a wink.

  “Have you been good this year, Edna?” he asked in his deeper-than-usual Santa voice.

  She just laughed. “’Bout as good as any year, I reckon.”

  “Well, that might put you on my naughty list, young lady,” he said, moving on through the house—and Shane tossed him a look. What had gotten into the old guy? Something good maybe, seemed like.

  As they stepped into a bedroom and closed the door, Shane gave Grampy the requisite cup of hot chocolate and asked how his ride over had been.

  “Dang fun, that’s how. Had to stick to the sides of the road and choose my path careful-like since most of the snow’s been cleared off ’em now—but felt like the real man in red ever’ time I passed by a car and got a wave or a honk. Doggone magical is what it was.”

  Magical. That word kept coming up the last little while. And Shane had no idea why, but that was the moment it hit him—there was something he’d never asked Grampy before. And why the hell hadn’t it occurred to him until this moment?

  Maybe because you weren’t meant to think of it until now. Maybe it’ll be a real Christmas miracle, the kind people around here could almost make a guy believe in. “Hey Grampy,” he said. “You ever know a man name
d Gary Dalton?”

  The timing of it made Shane almost sure Grampy would say yes, and that the connection would somehow reveal the reason Shane’s dad had sent him here.

  So it was a bit of a blow when the old man shook his head and said, “Nope. Why ya ask?”

  But just as quickly as the anticipation had built in him, he let it go. It didn’t matter. His father hadn’t sent him here for any reason whatsoever—it had all been a mistake. Maybe a mistake that had . . . well, not been all bad, by a long shot, and a mistake that had led him on a path he never would have traveled otherwise. But still, it had been a mistake.

  So now he just shook his head. “Well, never thought to mention it before, but I’m not here entirely by chance.” Then he explained to Grampy what had brought him to Destiny, and the various dead ends he’d found after arriving.

  “That, son,” Grampy said when he was done, “is a perplexment.”

  Shane just shrugged. “Figured it was worth a shot to ask.”

  And then, still behind his Santa beard, Grampy tilted his head and said, “Well, there’s worse places in the world to be stuck. But seems to me you probably know that by now.”

  Shane gave a short nod. “I do.”

  “Son, I know you’re dead-set on Miami and all—but way I see it is, no matter how ya slice it, ya musta been meant to come here. I’m glad your dad sent ya this way. Havin’ ya around has made my life . . . well, a little better than it was before ya showed up—that’s all.”

  Shane wasn’t sure what to say to that. Just like the gloves from Candy, it touched him, but he just wasn’t good at letting that show, at knowing how to. Finally he said, “Well, feeling’s mutual, Grampy.” Even if it came out sounding a little stiff. “You’ve been good to me. The whole town has. And I won’t forget that.” But then he moved straight on to, “Anything else you need before you do the Santa gig in the garden?”

  “Don’t believe so,” Grampy replied.

  “Well then, break a leg,” Shane said. “Or whatever fake Santas do.” Then he patted Grampy on the red-clad shoulder and left the room.

  He walked out onto Miss Ellie’s recessed side porch, taking in the big line of kids now amassed in the garden. Candy and a couple of the other ladies, Jenny Brody and Amy Whitaker, were trying to keep them entertained with cookies and other treats—and it made him smile to himself when he saw that his Candy Cane was handing out candy canes.

  Walking down into the winter wonderland, draped in snow and twinkling lights, he sidestepped the line of kids, trying to stay out of the way. And when he found himself next to the tree hung with ornaments from the partygoers, he started taking in the decorations—until his eye was drawn to one ornament in particular: a reindeer made from clothespins glued together, then decorated with little pieces of felt and black bead eyes.

  Strange. Something about it took him back in time, back to a memory he couldn’t quite grasp. Was it another vague recollection from a grandparent’s house? School? Somewhere else? He reached out, gently cupping it in his palm, holding it slightly away from the branches to see it better.

  That was when Candy approached, smiling, then teasing him. “See what a Christmas guy you are now? Even appreciating homemade ornaments.”

  He drew his hand down, letting the reindeer hang suspended again. “That one seems familiar to me.” But he still had no idea why. “I must have seen one like it somewhere or something.” It was clever, with the clothespins. So maybe that made it memorable from wherever he’d seen a similar one.

  “It belongs to Anita, the lady getting married on Christmas Eve. She let Jenny’s little boy bring it today. And she and Walter are supposed to be here somewhere—so I’ll have to introduce you.”

  He nodded—to be nice—but was only vaguely interested. He liked the people here and all, but he’d already met plenty of new ones today. And he was happy to have pitched in on the work at the church, and glad it would be done in time for this big wedding—but it didn’t particularly matter to him whether he met the bride and groom.

  “Is Grampy ready to make his big entrance?” she asked.

  “As far as I know,” Shane said. “Surprised he isn’t out here yet.”

  And just then, Edna peeked around the corner of the porch. “Shane,” she called. “Willie says he needs your help with somethin’.”

  Grampy stood before the mirror in Miss Ellie’s frilly bedroom holding a broken black Santa belt in his hand. He’d gone to tighten it a little and the dang thing had just snapped in two like an old rubberband. But then, it was an old belt. Made of cheap plastic. So he reckoned it was bound to happen sooner or later—he’d been wearing this same costume a lotta years now.

  Hopefully Shane could figure a way to hold it together for the rest of the day. And he guessed he could have gotten anybody to come to his aid, but most folks were partying it up with their families, and Shane never minded helping when he was asked. Grampy liked that about him.

  ’Course, he could have asked Edna, too. But somehow he felt antsy about that right now. He’d been thinking a lot about her lately, about what Shane had suggested. And the truth—the truth he was just finally starting to admit to himself—was that maybe he did have them kinda feelings for her. But now he didn’t know what the heck he wanted to do about it. They’d been friends for so long, after all. And he didn’t want to lose that. It was hard when big things like that changed. And maybe not worth the risk.

  So when he’d opened the bedroom door and peeked out and seen Edna standing there talking to a few other folks, he’d followed his gut and asked her to go fetch Shane.

  Just then, Shane entered the bedroom. “What’s up?” he asked, dark brows knit.

  “This,” Grampy said, holding up the broken belt.

  Shane scrunched up his mouth, silently taking in the problem.

  “Can’t very well be a proper Santa without the belt.”

  Shane shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Actually, you probably could. They’re little kids. They’re not gonna notice.”

  But Grampy was having none of that. “Nope, nope, nope. Santa wears a big black belt, and without it, somethin’s just missin’. Folks are takin’ pictures for their mantels and all, and the costume’s gotta be right.”

  Now Shane pursed his lips and Grampy couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or trying to think of a solution—or both. Finally he said, “Gimme a sec.” Then disappeared right back out the door, closing it behind him.

  A few minutes later, he came back in, a roll of silver duct tape in one fist, a black Magic Marker in the other.

  And Grampy smiled. “I had me a feelin’ you’d come up with somethin’.”

  “One thing my dad taught me—duct tape fixes anything.”

  Grampy watched as Shane took the broken belt from him, laid the two pieces out on the bed, and began neatly duct taping them together.

  “Heard you was seen kissin’ sweet little Candice down by the lake,” Grampy ventured. Edna had dropped that nugget of gossip in the short time it had taken him to ask her to find Shane.

  “Guilty as charged,” Shane said without looking up from his task.

  “So is it just kissin’? Or more than kissin’?”

  At this Shane stopped and gave him a pointed look. “Last I heard, a guy’s not supposed to more-than-kiss and tell.”

  That made Grampy smile bigger. Seemed to him that Candice could use a little romance and excitement in her life. And it was hard not to feel good when two folks found that sort of thing together.

  “Well, glad to hear all that makin’ eyes at each other finally led someplace better than just eyes.” He finished with a laugh.

  Now Shane had taken the freshly taped belt up in one hand and begun coloring the tape black with the thick marker. “Since you’ve been so hot on getting us together, you’ll be happy to know the kissing started when we took that sleigh ride at your place.”

  “S’that right?” Grampy asked, letting his chest puff out with a bit of
pride.

  Shane continued converting the duct tape from silver to black. “Turns out,” he said, eyes focused on the belt, “a sleigh ride is a good place for getting cold, and then wanting to get warm, and then kissing.” Then he looked up at Grampy. “You given any thought to my suggestion about getting with Edna?”

  The way Shane put it—“getting with”—would have made Grampy laugh . . . if it didn’t make him so nervous. And the hardest part was that he couldn’t remember a time in a great many years when he’d been nervous. He’d thought he was long past anything that could bring that kind of emotion rising up. But sometimes life had a way of surprising you.

  “Reckon I have, son. And the truth is,” he managed to say around a thickness that had grown in his throat, “maybe I . . . do have them kinda feelin’s for her. Think they’ve just been too mixed in with everything else for me to really recognize ’em until now. But thing is, after so long . . .” He stopped, shook his head beneath the Santa hat. “I plumb don’t know how to go about it.”

  Like before, Shane stayed quiet a minute, screwing up his mouth a little, but also stopping his work on the belt to peer out the light blue sheers covering the nearest window. So Grampy peeked out on the front yard, too. The view was filled with snow, and people, and a couple of snowmen, and a whole frozen lake in the distance. But he had a feeling Shane was looking at the red sleigh, still hitched to Charley, sitting near the mailbox.

  After a minute, he drew his gaze back in and planted it on Grampy. “Maybe you get cold together,” he suggested, “and let it lead to getting warm.”

  Grampy took that in. The vision of him and Edna out in the sleigh, a brisk wind on their faces, far away from anyone else—except each other. The cold, a blanket crossing both their laps, the closeness it could easily, naturally bring.