“Do me a favor and don’t bring Buster with you, okay?” he asked.
“Deal.” Pans clattered in the background. “The reason I called, honey, is that your father and I discussed our trip up to see you after New Year's. We think we should visit sooner.”
“Sooner.” He shifted from one foot to the other. Oh, boy.
“Christmas.”
“Christmas!”
“Is there an echo in here? Don’t sound so happy, Nick.”
“No, I don’t mean to sound like that, but I don’t have the place ready and—”
“Stop worrying. Besides, it wouldn’t just be your father and I. We all wouldn’t fit in your little apartment anyway.”
Nick grimaced. Great. His mother and father had hatched a plot that included the entire family. Perturbation twanged in his skull. “Mom, if you’re thinking of having the whole family up here—”
“Well, Brittany and Tom actually brought it up first.”
“You’re kidding.” His sister hated roughing it in little towns.
“Brit wants to learn how to ski, and you know how much Tom enjoys it. They know of this great cabin for rent near the ski resort and not so far from Russel. Beggar’s Point, I think it’s called.”
He grimaced again. “I’ve heard of it. I looked into the cabin you’re talking about and it sucks. Beggar is the operative word here, Mom.”
“Sucks?” Her tone implied he’d used a naughty word.
Although his mom and dad didn’t have a snobby bone in their bodies, they usually went first class. “It’s actually two cabins, one even more trashed than the other. Not what you and dad are used to.”
“Brit said they’re large. Huge, in fact. Plenty of room for us all.”
“Yeah, but they’re a little too...casual.”
“Nick, your father and I remember what it’s like to rough it.”
He closed his eyes. “So you and dad and Brit and Tom.”
“Um...actually, everyone wants to come up. It would be for a couple of days, starting the day before Christmas and leaving the day after Christmas. With the two cabins, everyone can come.”
“Everyone has agreed to this?” he asked, incredulous. “On this short a notice?”
“Well, not everyone. Brit and Tom, Nella, Jason, and the kids. Melissa and Geoff were already going to his parent’s for the holidays so they won’t be there.”
“What about Mason?”
“Mason, Anna and Amy will be with us.”
Wonderful. Having his huge family here would bring to him the one thing he’d tried to forget for two years.
That he didn’t have a wife and child.
Shaking the depressing thought away, he asked, “What about the hotels?”
“He’s got someone ready to take over while he’s gone. It will be wonderful, honey. And we wouldn’t be putting you out. You could come up to the cabin on Christmas Eve and stay with us until the day after Christmas. It will be perfect. What do you think?”
When his mother hatched an idea, a bulldozer couldn’t plow it under. Rubbing the back of his neck again, he gave into the inevitable. “Great. It’ll be great.”
Nick was driving Abby slowly insane.
Tormenting her.
As she waited for him to show for their morning stint as Santa and elf, she sat in his throne and reflected on the last few days at the bookstore.
Everything had gone well. Nick’s cold got better every day. He barely had the sniffles anymore. Not only did he get along famously with Becca, he worked like a precision instrument. Quick and capable, the first day on the job he’d rarely made mistakes.
She’d been curious how Nick would work with customers. He’d shown an easygoing yet efficient personality Abby couldn’t reproach. The image she’d formed in her mind of what a corporate man should be like—a straight-laced guy with a red power tie—didn’t fit Nick in any way. His friendliness dazzled shoppers. Several had commented about the nice new clerk, and two teen girls made a habit of visiting the bookstore after school to ask him questions about classics she doubted they read outside of school. The girls ogled him, and Nick handled their flirting professionally, yet managed to be amiable.
Abby envied Becca. While Becca could get an easy smile out of him with a joke, Nick gave Abby a more careful, skeptical look, as if he half-expected her to berate him. He didn’t exceed the employer-employee relationship with her in any way.
As days had gone by, though, her golden rule of staying professional eroded. She wanted to experience his trademark cocky grin, maybe even his gentle teasing. When Abby went to bed at night her dreams were peppered with images of Nick in his Santa suit, Nick coming to her rescue when she’d slipped on the ice. Nick, Nick, Nick.
She saw a movement from the corner of her eye. When she looked up she was so startled she jumped right out of the throne.
Father Christmas came toward her.
But it wasn’t the jolly, roly-poly man she knew.
Instead a long-robed medieval bishop of the past walked in her direction.
Abby closed her eyes as she recalled a scene etched in her memory like an engraving in stone. She was a little girl of four again. Her uncle dressed as Father Christmas as he lured her into the attic. Her uncle telling her Santa had a surprise for her upstairs. She recalled how innocent she had been. How trusting.
When the door to the attic had closed behind them, he’d touched Abby and fondled her. She’d shrieked and kicked out at him. He’d stopped, his laugh echoing as he’d slammed the door and locked her in with the darkness as her companion. It was the first time the bastard had molested her. But it wasn’t the last. Abby still heard Uncle Dick’s words as he’d stood outside the locked door and mocked her.
Come on now, don’t be afraid. Uncle Dick won’t hurt you.
Forcing her eyes open, she swallowed hard. Father Christmas smiled and she couldn’t mistake Nick’s grin hidden under the beard. But the suit reminded her of her uncle. She shoved away the hated memory of a time she’d wanted to forget.
As Nick arrived next to her, he made a slow turn for her inspection. “Morning, Pixie. How do you like it?”
A shiver traced along her limbs. “Where did you get that costume?”
“Pete had it in the store room, and I decided to give the kids a touch of an old-fashioned Christmas.”
“The nice, round, jolly Santa is an old-fashioned Christmas.”
His eyes warmed as he winked. “But not as old as this one. Did you realize that nineteenth-century political cartoonist Thomas Nast was the first person to show Santa Claus as a rotund kinda guy?” Nick held his arms out so that the wide sleeves of his robes hung from his arms. “This is the true vision of Christmas I want to get back to in my holiday. The one before Nast made him into a fat guy.”
“What’s wrong with him being fat? I like a fat Santa.”
He shrugged. “Nothing wrong with that. But I wanted something different for a change. Don’t you think the status quo gets a little boring sometimes?”
Old hatred pulled Abby deeper, refusing her reasonable side a voice. She put her hands on her hips. “Whatever vision of Christmas you had in mind, this isn’t one the kids are going to like.”
His eyes narrowed. “Why not?”
“Because he isn’t what they’re used to. I don’t think many schools teach children about the origins of Old Saint Nick anymore.”
“Humph.” Nick fussed with his long beard. “Maybe they should. Besides, what’s not to like?”
“You’ll scare the kids with this saturnine costume.”
“Saturnine?” He opened his mouth, then closed it. Second by second his expression turned from a smile into a glare. “You know, Abby, I’m beginning to wonder if doing this Santa thing with you is such a good idea.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, startled.
Nick came closer, until his deep tone sounded like velvet against her ears. “The first day I met you, I thought you were the sexiest damn e
lf I’d ever seen.”
Taken aback by the unexpected compliment, she waited for him to continue. When he said nothing she licked her lips. “Sexy.”
“Yes. Sexy. All I could think about was getting to know you after our morning stint. Hell, I didn’t want our morning to end because I was having fun with the kids, and even more fun with you. Now I don’t see that warmth at all. You’ve abandoned it for this mannequin I don’t recognize.”
Without another word Nick went to his throne, leaving Abby stunned. Tears surged into her eyes.
Get hold of yourself. You can’t cry in front of him, and you sure can’t cry in front of the kids.
Abby’s Aunt Cassandra’s words floated back to her like a nightmare that repeats and repeats.
What will people think?
What will people think?
Children had started to line up, and she didn’t get another opportunity the whole morning to speak with him again about his evaluation of her. The children proved she’d been wrong about his Father Christmas costume. Some kids looked hesitant to go to the different-looking Santa, but his smile won them over, and soon they asked him questions about his attire and weight loss.
“I’ve been on a little diet this season,” Nick said to one girl who looked at him with mistrust. “It’s easy for Santa to lose weight.”
The child frowned. “Huh?”
“Uh...what would you like for Christmas, Susie?”
When their shift ended for the day, Nick retreated without saying much, other than he’d see her at the store. She knew then that she had to think of a way to apologize. She’d acted like a fool, letting old memories control her.
Back at the store, he kept busy in the back, and Abby knew she wouldn’t have the opportunity to talk to him until closing. How she would apologize didn’t come to her until they closed the store and Becca had left. Abby went into the office and found Nick clacking away at the computer.
When he glanced up he nodded but didn’t smile. “Ready to go?”
She retrieved her coat, but instead of putting it on she looped it over a chair. “It’s been a long day.”
“Give me about two minutes, and I’ll walk you to your car.”
“Thanks.” Nervous knots tightened her stomach and she chewed on her lip. “Nick...I’ve got something to ask you. A favor.”
That got his attention away from the keyboard. Wary skepticism covered Nick’s face. He leaned back in his chair and picked up a pencil. He tapped it against the ink blotter. “Okay.”
“I don’t think I told you that I volunteer Saturday mornings at the local library.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Well, your Father Christmas suit this morning gave me an idea. But after the way I acted this morning, I’m not sure you’ll want to do it.”
Nick stopped tapping against the blotter, but he said nothing, and his watchfulness made her prickle with nervousness.
“A few weeks ago I started volunteering in the children’s segment of the library for a couple hours on Saturdays. Today I called the coordinator and asked if she’d allow me to start a Christmas theme tomorrow.” Still that steady stare, and Abby wondered if Nick would ever smile at her again.
“She said yes, and I wondered if you would bring your Santa costume. The Father Christmas costume. You could read some stories to the kids tomorrow morning. I mean, if you don’t already have plans.”
His frown altered to a genuine grin. Happiness bloomed in her chest, along with a growing excitement. Nick stood and came around to the front of the desk. He leaned back against it, his hands gripping the wood.
“I’ll do it on one condition.”
Abby let the air out of her lungs in a rush and smiled. “Thanks, Nick.” Pausing, she felt the expectation hanging in the air, as if he might make a great pronouncement. “A condition?”
“Lunch on Saturday with me. I’ll fix my triple-decker nachos.”
Her stomach growled, and when he grinned again, Abby couldn’t resist commenting. “Seems you have my answer. It’s a deal.”
“Great.”
Comfort enclosed Abby, as if a blanket in a harsh, cold, storm had surrounded her.
“I’m sorry, Nick.” Abby gritted her teeth for a second. “I had no right to criticize your costume. It turned out fine, the kids liked it—”
“Why did you hate it?”
“It’s...nothing. Something silly from my past.”
“What is it?” Nick came toward her until he stood close, a few inches between them. She looked at his casual slacks and the heavy blue sweater he wore, and Abby wanted to touch the fabric over his chest, warm her cold fingers by touching him. Abby forced herself to meet his gaze, and the heat she saw there threatened to drive every other thought from her mind.
“What did you remember when you saw me?” Nick asked.
As if all the air had left the room, her breathing came a little harder. “Memories. Memories happened.”
“Bad?” he asked softly.
A swirl of feelings grasped at her, like tiny hands beseeching. Abby tried to squash the recollection down deep where it belonged, but something about the way Nick coaxed her brought it to the fore.
“Yes.”
He leaned in slightly and his closeness comforted and increased her unease all at once. “Tell me about it.”
“I...can’t.”
“Why?”
How could she tell him? It was too trite, too psychobabble.
There would always be this stopgap to keep her silent. If you tell anyone, they won’t believe you. And if they do, they’ll tell you it’s asinine that it bothers you still. That you cling to it like a baby to its mother.
Abby didn’t want to see the look on his face when she told him the truth. So she wouldn’t tell him. “I can’t. But thanks for saying you’ll help me tomorrow. I appreciate it.”
Disappointment shadowed his face. The temptation to touch him, to make human contact propelled her to brush her fingers along his forearm. “I know things have been kind of tense the last few days.”
“I thought you wanted to keep distant.”
“I do.”
Nick made a soft sound of disbelief and tilted her chin up. His gaze drew her, like the attraction a flower had for a honeybee. “I’ll be here when you want to talk, Abby.”
With that he released her and went for his coat.
Abby closed her eyes, weary relief setting her free. But for how long?
“Santa, tell us another story!” the blonde girl squeaked, her high-pitched voice piercing Nick’s ears.
Surrounded by a dozen kids ranging from four to seven, he’d spent the last hour reading Christmas stories and answering questions about the North Pole and reindeer.
“Yeah, Santa,” a small boy said, his eyes wide. “You were going to tell us a story about an elf.”
When Nick caught Abby’s gaze, he was surprised by the amusement he saw there. She nodded her approval and he smiled at both her and the kids.
“Okay. I guess I have enough time for the elf story. But then I have to get back to the North Pole and exercise the reindeer.”
“Do they use a treadmill?” an older boy in the back asked.
Nick chuckled. “No. I take them out for a run with the sleigh.” He settled back in his chair, which thankfully had a padded seat. “Okay, here’s my story about the elf. I once knew this elf, and her name was Pixie. She was the cutest of all the elves.”
The kids giggled, and Nick glanced at Abby. Her face had gone a little pink, and he winked at her. Her color deepened.
“Pixie was at the North Pole a long time, and she always worked super hard at making toys. She loved her job beyond anything else. But after she made toys for awhile, she realized she wasn’t happy anymore.”
“Why, Santa?” a girl in the front row asked.
He leaned his elbows on his knees. “What is your name, honey?”
“Olivia.”
“Well, Olivia, she was afraid.”
“Of the dark?” the girl asked.
“No. Somehow she’d gotten the idea people didn’t like her. Pixie was very tall, and sometimes the other elves would tease her. This made her unhappy, because she didn’t like being different and having people notice her. She was afraid if others noticed her, she might be expected to work harder than the other elves and she feared she would fail. Pixie thought if she failed, that would mean no one would love her.”
Nick noticed that Abby bore the same rapt expression as the children. “Because she wanted to be liked, Pixie hated to disappoint anyone, even the elves that teased her because she was different. One day she met another elf who wanted to make friends with her, but when he was friendly she was sure he didn’t want to be friends, that he was like all the other elves and would tease her. But he liked her so much, he kept trying to get to know her.”
“I thought all elves were boys,” another boy said.
“I thought boy elves didn’t like girl elves,” the older boy in the back said, his nose wrinkled in disgust.
The kids giggled.
“Most of the time they don’t,” Nick said. “But this boy elf realized that Pixie would be a good friend because she was kind to others. Just the type of elf he wanted for a friend. He didn’t care that she was a girl.”
“Oh,” the older boy said, his nose still creased in disbelief. “Yuck.”
Abby leaned against the wall behind her, and Nick felt her gaze deep inside, burning him with sweet fire. Was he pushing this too far? Was he a nut for thinking this elf tale was a way to get through to her? He’d realized last night that she’d experienced a deep hurt. He wanted to ease whatever wound festered within Abby.
“The boy elf tried over and over to show Pixie that he wanted to be her friend, and that he’d never hurt her. One day, he stopped trying, because she wouldn’t talk to him or tell him why she was afraid to make friends.” Nick saw the tight line of Abby’s mouth soften.
“Then one day, Pixie noticed that she was lonely and that no matter how hard she worked, she missed the boy elf. So she went to him and explained that she was afraid he wouldn’t like her if he knew that she felt bad about being a tall elf. The boy elf explained that he liked her no matter whether she was short or tall, and they were friends ever after. The end.”
All I Want for Christmas Page 7