One Snowy Night Before Christmas (7 page)

Why was she suddenly unable to meet Tom’s eyes? Because
moments ago she’d nearly kissed him, or because she’d just watched him marking
his territory in her living room?

Amy ran up to the soda table in the kitchen. “Can I sit
here?” she asked, pulling on the stool. Tom came in and hefted her onto it.

“I thought after we go visit Santa we could go buy ourselves
a couple of really warm jackets,” he said in a cheerful voice. “That way we can
go outside and play in the snow. How does that sound?”

“Okay.” Again, Amy spoke to her father without looking at
him. Jessie met Tom’s eyes, feeling a tad guilty. The little girl seemed more
comfortable with her than her own parent. Was it Amy’s need for a positive
female influence, or was she simply shy around the man she hardly knew as her
father? Something else? Jessie couldn’t begin to guess.

She poured Amy a glass of milk and served them both thick
slabs of French toast and crispy slices of bacon. Tom sat next to his daughter,
leaving the last stool empty.

She had no choice but to sit, but she felt as though she
were intruding on their first real family moment. Tom asked Amy if she thought
the French toast was good, and she nodded a yes. But the way she ate as though
she hadn’t tasted food in weeks, shoveling more in her mouth before she’d
finished chewing, was all the reinforcement Jessie needed.

“I think it’s great.” Tom’s appreciative smile made Jessie
blush all the way into her scalp.

He was flirting with her—she had known that since last
night. It had felt good, until she’d found herself about to kiss him. Now
Jessie guarded herself. Getting mixed up with an emotionally damaged stranger
wouldn’t do either of them any good. They were both wounded, neither one in a
position to help the other.

Another knock at the door made Tom tense.

“That will be Geoffrey, Elmer’s oldest son. I called him to
pick up the rig and take my shift today.”

She pulled open the door. This time the cold air rushing
over her skin was a welcome relief.

“There’s a car hooked up to it,” Geoffrey said right off.

“Yup.” She handed him the keys to the rig. “Can you haul it
over to MacPherson’s?”

“But—”

“Thanks Geoffrey!” She smiled and shut the door.

Geoffrey’s muffled voice carried through. “You owe me for this,
Jessie.”

Even in the bright early morning sunshine, the air was
biting cold. He’d had no choice but to put on the same clothes he’d worn
yesterday. The knees of the pants were still damp where he’d landed on them
when he’d slipped in the snow.

He carried Amy along the snowy path to the carports. The
cold had her whining and grumpy all over again and even though they were going
to visit “Santa”, she didn’t seem eager to be out.

Jessie led the way to a burgundy Toyota 4Runner in one of
the last covered spots. It was equipped with thick-tread snow tires.

“Amy will have to sit in back,” she said. “It has dual
airbags in front.”

He should have expected such a tough woman would drive a
tough vehicle. She let it warm up for a few minutes before pulling out slowly
onto the slippery road. Everywhere, cars drove equally slowly, their tires
swishing through the slush.

Welcome, Oregon was like a storybook Christmas town. 
The houses lining the outskirts of the small town were all bedecked in lavish
holiday decorations. The town’s Main Street light poles all had matching red
velvet ribbons twined around their tops, and a huge wire archway of lights
stretched across the end where the street met city hall. Every storefront had
some sort of decoration, ranging from elaborate window displays to painted
scenes on the glass.

“You sure picked the wrong place to live,” he told Jessie.

“Tell me about it.”

After a quick stop at the repair shop to authorize the
estimate, they drove the short distance to the hospital. In the light of day,
the red brick structure didn’t look as gloomy as it had last night. Jessie
dropped them off by the door and went to park. When she entered the main doors,
she looked surprised to see them standing in the glass foyer. “You didn’t have
to wait for me.”

“We wanted to.”

Her eyes flashed with warm light when he smiled.

Amy ran ahead to the registration desk. “We’re here to see
Santa,” she said. Thankfully the hospital was almost as empty as it had been
last night.

A friendly looking nurse leaned down. “You are? What’s your
name, sweetheart?”

“I’m Amy. This is my daddy, and this is Jessie.”

Tom’s heart flip-flopped in his chest. At least Amy
understood he was her father.

“We checked in a John Doe last night,” Jessie said in a
callous tone that surprised him. “The nurse on duty said since I checked him
in, I have to check him out.”

She was beginning to grow tense—he could see it in the
tightening of her shoulders and the gradual severity sliding into her
expression. When he moved up beside her and placed a hand on her shoulder, she
didn’t acknowledge him.

They waited while the nurse tapped across the computer’s
keyboard. “Ah yes, room 203. Take the elevator down the hall.”

“You go on ahead,” Jessie told him. He nodded and picked up
Amy. “Did you find anything seriously wrong with him?” she asked the nurse as
he started away.

She was still down the hall at the reception desk when the
elevator came, so they went up without her.

In room 203, the old man was awake sitting propped up on several
pillows in his bed. His face brightened when he saw them.

“Santa!” Amy shrieked at the sight of every kid’s favorite
celebrity.

“Hey there, old timer,” Tom said. “Do you remember us?”

“How could I forget?” His eyes twinkled when he grinned at
Amy. “Hello there, young lady.”

Amy struggled from his grip. Tom let her down to the floor.
She ran over and jumped on the chair beside the bed. “How are you feeling,
Santa?”

“Oh, I’m doing fine. Much better than last night, I
declare!”

“Amy, this isn’t Santa Claus. He has his own name.”

In the light of day Tom couldn’t deny the old man’s
remarkable resemblance to the Santa character played by Edmund Gwenn in
Miracle
on 34th Street
. Other than the horrific bruise on the left side of his
forehead, he was every bit the spitting image, right down to the long, white
beard, ruddy cheeks, laughing eyes and jolly round belly.

“Oh, posh.” He dismissed Tom with a wave of the hand. “She
can call me anything she likes.” The old man turned his attention to Amy. “We
haven’t been formally introduced. What is your name, young lady?”

“I’m Amy. I used to live in San Francisco but I’m going to
live in Port-end with my daddy. Will you know where to bring my presents when
we get there?”

He leaned over and tapped the end of her nose, making Amy
squeal with delight. “Of course I will, don’t you worry.”

Tom stole a glance at the chart hanging on the wall. It read
‘Santa Claus.’ Maybe the nurses thought it was a joke. He stepped forward and
offered his hand. “I’m Tom Dunham. I was in the tow truck that hit you last
night. I wish it was under better circumstances, but it’s nice to meet you.”

The man shook his hand with a secure grip. “The pleasure is
all mine, young fella.”

“And what would your name be?”

“This is Santa!” Amy squealed.

The old man grinned. “She’s right there.”

Tom sighed. “Listen, sir. The woman who hit you last night-
she’s awfully worried about you. I want you to know, she’s a good person, and
you were standing out in the middle of the road in limited visibility.”

“I can see where you’re going, but you can tell her she
doesn’t have to worry. I don’t blame her one bit.”

Tom took a step forward. “There’s something else you should
know about her—” How could he tell the man who claimed to be Santa that she
didn’t like Christmas? Before he could try, he saw a flash of red move into the
doorway.

Jessie’s wary gaze moved across all three of them. She
looked downright haunted. Tom stepped over and put his hand on her shoulder.
“He’s doing much better this morning, and he doesn’t hold you responsible.”

She looked past him at the old man.

“Hello, dear. Come in.” He beckoned her with a grand wave.
“Please. Come in.”

As Tom urged her inside, he felt her shoulders go rigid. He
groaned inwardly as she glanced at the chart hanging on the wall.

“The hospital says you have a severe concussion and they
want you to spend another night,” she stammered. “I told them I’d pay for
whatever you need.”

“That’s very kind of you.”

“But I’d like to know your name.”

“He’s Santa,” Amy insisted again, this time a little more
fiercely.

Jessie remained silent. Tom could hardly discern her
breathing. “Amy, stop,” he told her.

“But he is!”

“Let’s let him answer.”

“Santa Claus is just what the kids call me,” he said.

Amy’s attention went rapt.

“But my real name is Chris Kringle.”

Jessie turned around. Her eyes rolled heavenward. “For the
love of—”

Tom stopped her before she could bolt out the door. He drew
her close with an arm around her shoulders. “Humor him. He’s had a nasty bump
to the head.”

Her eyes were shiny. She blinked several times. “I don’t
have to put up with this,” she insisted. “Not if I’m footing the bill.”

“Look at him.” He glanced over his shoulder. Amy leaned over
on the bed, chatting happily with the broadest smile he’d ever seen. Jessie’s
miserable gaze slid their way, then returned his with raw desolation in her
crinkled brow. “He looks exactly like Santa,” he continued. “People have
probably been calling him that for years. If he wants to be a delusional old
man, who are we to stop him?”

She drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. “This is
ridiculous.”

“Yes, you and I think so, but he and Amy are having a good
time. I say, let them.”

“Fine,” she ground out. She allowed him to steer her to the
foot of the old man’s bed.

“I want a Barbie Malibu house for Christmas,” Amy said.

“I know you do, I got your letter.”

Her mouth formed a perfect circle. “You did?”

Tom squeezed Jessie’s hand. A warm tingle erupted in his
fingers when she squeezed back.

“Of course. You want a puppy, too, but I think your father
wants to wait a little to make sure you’re responsible enough to take care of
it.” The old man glanced at him and winked. Tom shifted uncomfortably.

“Uh, I can’t have pets in my place,” he said. Better to put
a stop to this right now. Not only weren’t animals allowed in his rental, his
allergies would kill him.

“You aren’t going to live there forever, are you?”

“Santa can see into the future now, too?” Jessie said with a
sarcastic edge. “What are the winning lottery numbers?”

“You just don’t believe,” Amy shouted. “He really is Santa.
Go ahead, ask him a question that will prove it.”

“Where do you live?” Tom asked. He glanced at Jessie
levelly.
Let this ride
, he was trying to tell her. She was smart enough
to see that, but possibly bitter enough to ignore it.

“At the North Pole, of course.” He winked. Jessie rolled her
eyes Tom’s way.

“What are your reindeer’s names?” He thought that one might
trip up the old man, but he rattled them off without hesitation.

“Can you talk to penguins?”

The old man gave him a sly grin. “Penguins live in the south
pole.”

“I don’t believe this.” She turned and stalked out of the
room without another word.

Thankfully Amy didn’t seem to notice, or she just didn’t
care. She continued happily listing off her Christmas wishes until a nurse came
in with a pain-killer for the old man’s bruised ribs. Tom took the opportunity
to make his exit, and Amy gave in without much of a fight after “Santa”
promised to consider the puppy request for next year.

Jessie sat waiting for them on the same bench Amy had been
dozing on last night.

“I thought you might have left.” Tom felt bad for the way
things had gone in there. If she was paying his bills, the old man shouldn’t be
riling her like that.

“I wouldn’t do that to you. You’ve got no ride until your
car is fixed.” She stood and forced a smile. “Besides, I promised I’d take you
to the best outfitter in town. You need some gear.”

They drove to Mandy’s Mountaineering in silence, but once
inside the mom and pop owned store, Jessie’s mood improved drastically. It was
a comfortable place with rough-hewn wood boasting the latest in everything from
fashionable winter wear to heavy-duty arctic expedition clothing. A giant,
freestanding iron fireplace stood in the center, surrounded by benches
customers sat on to try on ski and snow boots. A roaring fire kept the place
toasty warm. Mandy, the owner, greeted Jessie with a whoop of joy and a hug,
and an invitation to Christmas dinner.

“Thank you,” she answered. “But I’ve already got plans. What
we need right now is some warm clothing for these two, and I could use a new
pair of gloves. Gortex, if you’ve got them in my size.”

“Of course I do. You know that!” The flamboyant woman
gestured dramatically as she led them around the store. “And you’re all welcome
to come over if you’d like to have Christmas dinner circus style!”

“Mandy has more kids than anyone else in town,” Jessie
explained as they followed Mandy to the section of store where kids’ jackets
hung on a round display.

“Twelve, including my sister’s three and a trouble-makin’
cousin from New York currently under my care,” Mandy said brightly.

“How do you take care of them all?” Tom asked. One sullen
six-year-old had reduced him to quivering, stammering coward. This was
definitely a woman whose advice he would treat like gold.