“This is from Santa to Gabe,” Abby read from the tag. “It should say from Santa to Dad, though, ‘cause he’s not Gabe anymore, he’s Dad.”
“What about me?” Gun was sitting on the floor between the twins, surrounded by nearly enough discarded wrapping paper to cover him. “I’m Gabe’s dad.”
“No, you’re Grandpop.” Andy sent Jet Jupiter flying through the air, and it was caught by Sparky in an impressive leap. “Yay, Sparky! Good dog!”
“Has anybody seen The Real Cat Matilda?” Abby began tossing ribbons and paper, looking for the kitten.
“She’s behind the tree, trying to get her paw into that paper chain,” Katherine said, pointing to the place where the construction-paper decoration hung dangerously low to the floor. “Here.” She thrust the small package Abby had handed to her into Gabe’s hands. “Santa left this for you.”
He rattled it, then tore off the wrapping and opened the box. “Buttons,” he said. “In case I lose one off my coat.”
“Or in case they all get ripped off…somehow,” Katherine suggested with a saucy smile.
Gabe kissed her. “This is even better than the Christmas I got the pony.”
“It was a dog,” she said. “You asked for a pony, but you got a dog. See, I remember more about your Christmases than you do.”
“Only because Dad talks too much.”
“What’s this?” Abby held up the most recently opened gift. “The tag said it was to me and Andy, but it’s just the same old drawing.”
“I think that was supposed to be mine.” Katherine reached for the infamous drawing, the crayon Christmas that had started the whole thing. She looked at it fondly, her fingertip tracing the stick figures through the glass.
Gabe looked over her shoulder. “I amaze myself at times. Look around you. The kids asked for it, and I delivered.”
Katherine pursed her lips skeptically. “You delivered, huh? Well, why don’t you explain to me just exactly what you delivered.”
“My pleasure, Mrs. Housley.” He held up the picture and pointed first to the drawing and then to each counterpart in turn. “Well, they wanted a house,” he began. “And here’s the house.”
“It isn’t in the forest,” she observed reasonably.
“No, but we do have a real Christmas tree, which we decorated ourselves.”
“And it does have real presents under it.”
“Yes, and there are some for you.”
“Really? Can I open them?”
“Later. Now, pay attention, this is important. There’s going to be a test.”
“Mmmm.” Clasping her hands behind her, she regarded the picture again with a saucy tilt to her head. “What’s that?”
“I’ll give you a hint. It isn’t spaghetti.”
She inhaled deeply. “Smells like turkey.”
“That’s because it is.”
“And what’s this?”
He looked at the blue stick figure. “That’s me. The resemblance is quite extraordinary, you know.”
“It is, isn’t it?” Katherine frowned at the picture. “Oh, wait, I was looking at the turkey.”
He took the picture away from her. “That does it. No presents for you…until you’ve kissed me.”
She gave his a quick peck on the cheek. “Okay, bring on those presents. You know, I can’t remember the last time I opened a present without knowing in advance what was inside. I may get to like this.”
“You’d better, because I intend to shower you with surprises.”
The twins shrieked as they discovered two fivedollar bills wrapped in clear plastic and labeled with their names. “Money!” Abby waved the gift through the air. “Mom, we got money.”
“Wonderful.” Katherine picked up the package Gabe had placed in her lap and turned it over in her hands.
“This is not your main present,” he said a little self-consciously. “In fact, it’s just something that reminded me of you.”
She leaned forward to kiss him, her mood turning wistful and reflective. “You asked me once what I had against Santa and I told you some nonsensical thing about a pony.”
“I remember,” he said, taking her hand.
“Well, now I want to tell you the truth. A long time ago, when I believed in Santa Claus, I asked him for a present, and when I didn’t get it that Christmas, I told myself I hadn’t really wanted it anyway and I said I didn’t believe anymore. I said I knew because of the gift I didn’t receive that he didn’t, couldn’t exist. How could he deny something so small to a child who’d just lost her father? But he did and I knew he wasn’t real.”
He loved her with the soft caress of his hand at her temple. “What did you ask Santa to bring you?” he asked.
“It was nothing, really. Just something my dad said he would get for me and never did, something he said reminded him of me. So I asked Santa to get it for me. It was just a little ceramic angel with blond hair and a basket full of stars. But he said the thing about her that reminded him of me was that she was stretching out her hand, reaching for just one more star.”
Gabe swallowed hard, knowing that somewhere out there, Santa Claus really was watching. “I think it’s time you opened your presents, Kate.”
“Now?”
“Now.” He bent his head and kissed her tenderly, with all the passion of a kiss under the mistletoe and all the promise of a lifetime of Christmases to come.
eISBN 978-14592-6783-1
THE SANTA SUIT
Copyright © 1997 by Karen Whittenburg Crane.
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The Santa Suit (Holiday Homecoming #4) Page 20