The Santa Society (10 page)

He pinches his lower lip between his teeth and looks straight into my eyes. I could fall completely into him. “Make sure you turn the log when it burns low. And if you’re awake after that, add another one on. I’ll bring more tomorrow. I don’t want you to get cold.”

“I will. Thank you for tonight—for everything.”

“You’re welcome.” He lifts his hand and gives me a little wave before he turns to leave.

I close the door, knowing I want to dream of the way he smells tonight while I sleep in the warmth of his fire.

Chapter 12

I DON’T DREAM of Reason, I dream of Mom. She sits in the chair, where she always liked to read and holds the unfinished afghan, the one from the yarn basket. She knits it now.

“You know, I love this fireplace. It’s been so long since we had a nice fire. I’m glad you’re home for Christmas this year.”

I crawl on my knees like a child to sit at her feet. “I came too late, though.”

She smiles at me. Her face glows as though it’s emanating light, and her eyes glimmer like black liquid, pools of living water that move and swirl. “It’s not Christmas yet. You didn't miss anything.”

Tears stream down my face at the sound of her voice. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—”

Love fills her face, and I fall silent. I can feel—hear—her words in my mind. She speaks to me now, but her lips don’t move as she knits and purls.

 It’s me that’s sorry, Er. I didn’t realize what this would do to you. You haven’t done anything wrong. I wanted to spend my last days at home with my little girl at Christmas, but I couldn’t stay. You let me go. That’s all
.

“I should’ve taken you to the hospital. Because what if they were wrong about everything? Treatment could’ve given you more time, and you’d still be with me.” I sob with my forehead against her lap. My voice chokes and distorts my words. “They brought so much pain medication, was it the patches? Did I give you too much? There were so many, and they kept telling me more, and I didn’t come see you when I should have. All those years you were alone here. Just like me—I know how that feels now. I didn’t realize I was running out of time—I swear I would’ve come back. I wasted it. I wasted the last years of your life.” The words gush out of me.

Hush, now. There was enough—just enough—as much as there was supposed to be.

Suddenly, we aren’t in the living room anymore. We’re standing outside in Bethlehem Park, at the base of the Christmas tree. I want to hug her, but I can’t. It’s as if there’s an invisible barrier around her. She looks at me with love in her eyes.

It seems like only minutes since I left, but it’s been so much longer, hasn’t it? Your life is beautiful, sweet girl.
She pauses, and suddenly her words come faster.
I kept so many boxes of things, didn’t I? But only one has something you need. Only one.

“What do you mean? Wait—”

Suddenly, I’m alone. The tree’s lights glow brighter until I can hardly see anything, except the snow all around me.

I wake to silence. Klaus and I are bundled in quilts, as many as I could find. He’s buried under them alongside me, his head resting on the other half of my pillow. I’ve kept warm all night, and I’m surprised to see the fire just beginning to die out. The dream feels so real. It clings to me the way the scent of deep fried corn dogs and funnel cakes sticks to your clothes long after you leave the fair.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, hoping I can smell some kind of proof. But the only odor I notice is Klaus. I crawl out of the blankets and peak through the window. Outside, a heavy blanket of white covers the world. I haven’t seen this much snow since I was a little girl—except for last night at Bethlehem Park with my mother.

I immediately think of the sewer department and the broken furnace. I can’t sell this house right now. Nobody in their right mind would want a house with no working furnace and a biohazard sign out front. A deep sigh of relief escapes my lips.

The upcoming bills are troublesome, but I decide not to worry about that right now. Because really, I’d rather embrace this feeling that I’m lighter today. It’s like someone opened my windows and let the dark souls escape. I float into the kitchen to start my coffee. While it brews, I busy myself folding the quilts and finding a space heater so I can take a shower. I roll through the facts as I go. I have some money left from my mother’s estate, and I can start working again if I need to. Hope is a strange thing. It makes things seem so doable. And forgiveness makes life feel fresh and new.

Once I’m dressed and I’ve combed my hair, I return to the kitchen to pour my first cup of morning coffee. I feel refreshed, like my sanity grew while I slept—the sanity I’ve been missing over the past year. I glance around the house, and for the first time I wonder if this could become my home again.

I couldn’t stay. You let me go. That’s what I asked you to do. That’s all
.

I’ve felt so responsible for everything. I’d convinced myself she wasn’t in her right mind. That I had a duty to think for her and decide how and when she should die. But the thought seems so arrogant now, as though all this time I’ve inflated myself into a god who had the power to continue my mother’s life—or a god whose inaction killed her.

I’ve been thinking only of myself. What I need. What I want. But she looked so happy. She’s not in pain. Why haven’t I celebrated that? If I had fought to keep her, I would’ve only extended
her
fight—the undefeatable enemy within her. It might have bought a month? Maybe two? At the price of
her
suffering. I haven’t allowed myself to see the whole truth. I missed most of the last decade of her life and then came back expecting her to suffer so I don’t have to feel bad about it.

My mind sifts through her words. As I try to grasp them, they start to slip. All I’m getting now is something about there being more to things than I know, a beautiful life, and a box. I know it’s just a dream. Still, I can’t help but wonder if what she said means something. After she received her diagnosis and made her decision, she paid in advance for chimney services. Even though she knew she wouldn’t be here this winter, much less the next five winters. She did that for me.

It’s almost seems like she wanted me to stay.

True to his word, Reason arrives to keep the fire burning. He’s stacked a load of firewood on the porch where it’s dry, and I pour him a cup of coffee as he builds a new fire. At this point, I’ve learned enough by watching him to probably do this myself, but I like knowing he’ll keep coming back.

He appears in the kitchen, looking for the coffee I promised. “That smells wonderful. The animals were crazy this morning. I didn’t even get the coffee pot started.”

“Animals?” I remember now. He did mention having animals the day I found Klaus.

“Yeah, I have a ranch just outside of town.”

“In the Wildlands?”

“Yes.” He sips his coffee. “I like the quiet out there.”

“I always wondered why people call it that. Makes it seem dangerous and bad.”

“It’s an old legend.”

“It is?” I study him, wondering why I’ve never heard it.

“Yeah, about a man who once owned all the land in the valley outside of town. And he filled it with animals—wild ones. He tamed them, but only to himself. So people called it the Wildlands and stayed away from his land. My guess is he probably encouraged it to keep out trespassers. So mothers passed it on to their children, until eventually people forgot the details of the story but not the name.”

I can’t believe I haven’t heard this story before. My mother loved to tell me the local history of things. It surprises me that she didn’t share this one. But then a memory comes to me. It was in my tenth grade year. Gus Barnes showed up at school with a black eye, saying he took Kelly Walters parking in the Wildlands and got the black eye from Kelly who head butted him when she saw a tiger pass by the car window.

Most everyone concluded she probably just smacked him for groping her. A few people speculated he made the whole thing up to hide the fact his little brother beat him up again, and that he never made out with the most popular girl in school. She never talked about it, one way or the other, and eventually the whole thing died out.

I don’t mention the tiger scandal. “Well, you never know. A lot of legends have their roots in truth.”

He swallows. “Yes, they do say that. But wouldn’t you think it strange for a man to be able to communicate with animals?”

“No, I could buy that. What would seem stranger to me, is why would he live out there anyway, away from everyone, and why would he want to keep people away? That’s what I’d want to know.”

He watches me over the rim of his cup as he sips then sets it down empty on the table. “Well, if I see him, I’ll ask him. I’m sure he must have a good reason.” He glances at his watch. “I have to get going, I’ve got to be at the soup kitchen soon. Would you like to join me?”

“The soup kitchen? What will we be doing?”

“Feeding people.” He bites his lip.

I can’t resist. “I’ll get my coat.”

 It’s obvious this isn’t a one-time affair. Everybody in the soup kitchen knows Reason.

Right now, we’re serving eggs and biscuits with sausage gravy. A large round Cajun man makes the biscuits from scratch, and his miniature mother cooks the sausage, using the crisp cracklings and meat crumbles for the gravy. Next to her, a young man with caramel skin scrambles eggs, some with cheese and some without. The smells make my stomach growl.

I didn’t expect so many people at a soup kitchen on a Friday morning. Not in Christmasville at least. What surprises me most is that these aren’t all homeless people. Many of them seem like they are dressed for work.

I keep getting distracted by Reason’s presence next to me. I’m so aware of him that I can’t stop thinking about the way his heart sounded in my ear last night and the feeling of skating in his arms. I can’t stay focused. I’ve even forgotten to add biscuits to three plates so far. Gravy without a biscuit—nice.

“Reason, my man.” A loud voice spills through the entrance. It comes from a guy who looks like he could be a professional basketball player.

He grins from ear to ear as he waits to get close enough to greet Reason. Once I’ve loaded his plate with two biscuits, he moves along in the line. Dark burn scars pepper the right side of his face and arm.

“That’s the Reason. There he is—the reason I’m working. The reason I got me a place. The reason I’m not laid up in the VA sucking on med drips. The reason for the Season.” He presents his forward facing fist to Reason. “Knuckles, bro.”

They touch their fists together and follow up with some kind of complicated hand maneuver. It ends with both men leaning in to bump their right shoulders in what looks almost like a half hug/half handshake.

Reason grins. “The only guy I know taller than me. What up big brother?”

“I knew you was gonna be here today. I just had that feeling. Nick had me working up on Long Year Road this week. ‘Preciate it man.”

“That’s good news, Rashaun. It’ll be steady from here on out.”

“I’ma hold you to it.” Rashaun laughs and takes a step back. I load another plate and something shiny catches my eye. I look down. A steel prosthetic device occupies the place where the lower half of his right leg should be. I move my eyes away. His military dog tags clink together as he steps out of the way to let the line move forward.

“Who’s this lovely lady?” Rashaun smiles at me.

“Erin, meet Rashaun—Rashaun, Erin. Rashaun’s a friend of the Society.”

Rashaun looks closely at Reason as though deciphering a coded message stamped in his smile. “I hear ya, bro.” He looks at me with wonder. “Somebody’s finally stole the man’s heart. Well, well, I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Ms. Erin.” He tips an imaginary hat.

“It’s nice to meet you.” I steal a glance at Reason whose cheeks have turned bright red. He looks a little like he wants to strangle Rashaun—in a brotherly way.

I can’t help but feel flattered, and it’s even nicer to hear I’m not just another Reason admirer.
Thank you, Rashaun, for making my morning.
He claps Reason on the shoulder and heads for a nearby table.

When I look back again, a pair of small hands lifts a plate to me. I see only the top of a red head just above it. When I take it, I almost drop the spoon of eggs.

It’s Callie, and Tammy and Holly stand beside her, waiting their turn in line.

“Erin!” Her face beams with excitement. “I didn’t know you worked here. Did you make the eggs and biscuits?”

“No, I’m not a very good cook. I’m just here to help out.”

“I came to eat.” She states the obvious. “We don’t gots much food, cause my daddy lost his job, and he can’t find it now. And then he spent our grocery money on the toilet, cause he’s not a plumber.”

“Hush, Callie.” Tammy’s head is bent low as she speaks. She glances up at me with an embarrassed smile then recognition flashes through her eyes. “Are you—Erin, right?”

“Hi.”

Her eyes turn watery.

Holly looks at me now too. “Holy—“ She doesn't finish. Her eyes slide to the floor. She shifts so that most of her face is hidden behind her mother’s shoulder.

I do my best to give Tammy a regular smile, the kind that says there is nothing out of the ordinary happening here.

And she tries to return it, but I feel her embarrassment as if it is my own. I wish I could be someone else, someone she doesn’t know, so she won’t have to feel like she does at this moment.

I do us both a favor and focus my attention back to Callie.

But Callie has her eyes locked on Reason. She gazes at him with an awestruck look on her small face.

He steps around the corner of the serving table and lowers himself to her level. Even while squatting, he’s still taller than her. He reaches behind her ear and produces a small candy cane.

She giggles with delight when she sees it. I watch the side of his face. He grins at her as he reaches behind her other ear and pulls out a small square envelope. He whispers something in her ear, and she takes a step back, nodding her head in rapid jerks. Her face beams with excitement. She takes a tentative step forward and throws her arms around his neck.