“Finally.” He jerked his thumb toward the classrooms and held out her backpack. “Go. I’ll see you after school. I love you, kiddo.”
Now he had to decide what to do that wouldn’t drive Christy away permanently. Between her mother’s revelations the night before and learning that their daughters had been setting them up to become one happy family, if he didn’t proceed carefully, they’d all be in for a miserable Christmas.
Chapter Nine
Christy was in a bad mood Wednesday afternoon. She was tired after her sleepless night. Her mother called and texted and called some more, and then her father started leaving long, pathetically remorseful voice messages showcasing his acting talent until she was so mad at both of them she wanted to throw her phone into the pond off Main Street. Of course, she didn’t. She took a deep breath. And another. And went on with her day.
She joined Dan after school where they met with the fifth graders and their teachers to go over the new plan for the holiday show. The older kids were still learning their skits and songs, but they also offered to help some of the younger students with the backgrounds and music for their parts of the program. The trio from West Sierra University had added some non-traditional elements, mainly an homage to Margaret Meade’s early anthropological work in the South Pacific, complete with a surfing Santa in a grass skirt and some potentially risqué coconut bra-clad fifth-grade girls. When Christy said she thought they should drop that part, Dan suggested they substitute boy dancers for the girls, the kids hooted their enthusiasm, and she lost. But she gracefully acceded that nearly bare-chested boys were more acceptable.
Each grade was to perform a song and a skit related to a winter holiday from around the world. The Junior Kindergarten sang "Away in a Manger" while standing around the wooden manger Christy had stood beside thirty years earlier. This year, Zeke and Gina Hamilton’s month-old twins were slated to play the Baby Jesus. Their older brother Andy was in the Kindergarten skit about a magic dreidel and some broken Hanukah candles that were miraculously repaired. The first graders had their Nutcracker song and skit. Kwanzaa, Hindu, Muslim, Pagan - there were songs and skits for all of them. Running throughout the show was a story about a lost elf from The North Pole who had lost the spirit of Christmas. He found it in the South Pacific at the end of the fifth-grade skit. Then all the students formed one big choir and sang secular Christmas songs together around the giant Nutcracker Christmas tree. Santa, Jack Frost, and Frosty the Snowman appeared, and everyone danced around the tree singing a medley of songs from How The Grinch Stole Christmas and Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer. It was the hokiest holiday show imaginable, and the kids loved every bit of it.
At the end of the first practice, Dan raised his eyebrows, and Christy knew what he was asking. Had she thought about what she wanted? There hadn’t been time to tell Dan that she’d thought about things and didn’t want anything to change.
Instead of answering, she gave a tiny shake of her head. He held her gaze for a long moment, and darned if her heart didn’t start thudding. He started toward her, then checked himself and gave her a salute.
She ducked out the stage door and collected Madison from the library where some of the Snow Creek High students read stories and supervised literacy skill games until rehearsal was over. She waved at Piper, who gave her a wide-eyed look full of nerves and, if Christy wasn’t mistaken, guilt. What the heck was that about?
“Did you and Piper argue again?” she asked Madison on the way to the car.
“No.” Madison wasn’t in a talkative mood, but for once, Christy didn’t press. There would be time to hear about her day over dinner.
On the drive home, she wondered why she hadn’t just told Dan what she’d decided at the rehearsal. It wasn’t until she was stir-frying red peppers, broccoli, and slivers of chicken breast with a little garlic and plum sauce that she realized she didn’t completely want to close that door.
She would. She needed to. But she didn’t want to…yet.
Madison came in and hopped up into her seat at the kitchen island. She leaned forward, hands together, a furrow lining her small brow.
Christy added a little wheat-free tamari sauce to the wok. “What’s up with the worried face?”
“How come we don’t have a Christmas tree?” Madison asked.
Not Madison, too. “Your grandmother uses up the family quota at the tree lot every year.” It was her standard line, but Madison’s frown let her know she wasn’t buying it this year.
“No, Mom, really. Why not?”
Christy put down the tongs and turned the burner to low. She poured boiling water over the rice noodles and covered the bowl. Maybe it was time to be honest with Madison. She didn’t want to make the same mistakes her parents had. “Sweetie, it’s so wasteful. A tree has to die for every real Christmas tree, and fake ones use all kinds of plastic and chemicals that aren’t good for the environment. Even the lights, pretty as they are, have lead in the wiring.”
All true, but still not her truth. “But in all honesty, I don’t like Christmas. I don’t like the excess. People spend so much money when they and their children go without things they really need.”
“Like what?”
“Well, health insurance.”
Again, true enough, but not her truth. “When I was little, did you know I didn’t have my own bed until I was twelve?”
That got Madison’s attention. “Really?”
“Really.”
“Where did you sleep?”
“On an old air mattress. It was something we had before blow-up beds. Same principle, but smaller.”
“Was it awful?”
“It was…perfectly comfortable, but I was embarrassed. I didn’t want my friends to see my room. I wanted a canopy bed with gauzy curtains.”
“Like mine?”
“Exactly like yours.”
“I love my bed.”
Christy’s eyes prickled suddenly. “I’m glad.”
Madison sighed. “Did you ask Santa for a bed?”
Christy shook her head. “No.”
“You knew he wasn’t real, didn’t you?”
Madison’s world-weary tone flooded Christy’s eyes with tears she didn’t dare shed. She’d avoided this conversation, hoping it would never come up, that Madison would quietly figure things out the way she had. Then she would never be faced with the choice between lying about Santa and seeing her daughter’s eyes dim as the magic leached out of Christmas. “You don’t believe in Santa?”
“No,” Madison said so flatly Christy thought she might need a crash cart to get her heart up to a normal rate. “I mean, he doesn’t come here ‘cuz you don’t like Christmas, but he goes to Grandma’s because she loves it? Too convenient. I’m not dumb. The stuff he leaves at Grandma’s has the same brand names as the stuff in stores. And Grandma’s not always good at hiding stuff. Last year I found some bags in her closet. On Christmas morning, the stuff that had been in the bags together was all there, some from Santa, some from Grandma.”
Christy went to her daughter and wrapped her arms around her small shoulders. “Oh, chickadee. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Madison stiffened, but didn’t try to get out of the hug. “I am telling you.”
“Yeah. You are.” Christy swayed, wishing she could rock Madison as she had when she was a toddler, and that every wrong in her life could still be fixed by a mother’s loving touch.
Madison sighed again. “I’m not sure I like Christmas all that much anymore, either.”
The words stabbed into Christy’s soul. Why did that sound so awful coming from her daughter when she’d said it herself so many times?
“I can’t believe I didn’t figure it out sooner.”
Christy kissed Madison on the top of her head. “We all believe. Until we don’t.”
“I don’t think the other kids know.”
“Probably not. And you’re not going to tell them.”
Madison shrugged out of her embrace. “Why not? Nobody likes
to be stupid.”
Christy pulled her around to face her and smoothed her too-long bangs away from her eyes. “How do you feel right now?”
Madison made a raspberry.
“Exactly. Think how badly the other kids would feel if you told them.”
“It wouldn’t be nice.”
“Not one little bit. Do you promise not to tell?”
“I promise.” Madison rolled her eyes.
Christy looked at her daughter's unhappy face and wished she could have believed a little longer. At least for this Christmas. Her own regret surprised her. “Are you hungry yet?”
“I guess.” Madison went to get the placemats from the sideboard.
“Remember,” Christy said as she checked on the noodles. “No telling. Keeping promises is important. A promise is a commitment. Other people’s happiness depends on it.”
“Yeah, but what about being honest? You always say I have to be honest, too. If Santa Claus is a lie, why shouldn’t I say so?”
Ouch. Because making decisions for other people wasn’t fair, either, and this was a parent’s choice. Like the choices her parents had made not to tell her why her dad really left them? That had been different. Sort of. Bah. Maybe not so much.
“Honesty is also important,” Christy said carefully, struggling for safe ground in the middle of the emotional bog Madison’s questions had opened up. “But in this case, it’s not your place to tell this truth. Okay?”
“Yeah.” Madison didn’t sound happy.
Christy wasn’t, either.
Chapter Ten
While their parents ran the after-school show rehearsal, Madison and Piper played with their Barbies inside the story circle in the library. Madison had turned a couple of chairs upside down, and they used their scarves to create walls for side-by-side houses.
Madison looked at the arrangement critically. “The houses look too small.”
“We could share one big house,” Piper said. “Like we can for real. You know, when….”
“Okay.” They moved the chairs right-side-up, then tipped them so the backs met, creating a larger space underneath. “Put your scarf down for the floor. Mine will make a snowy roof.”
“It can be Christmas Eve!” Piper exclaimed. “And Santa is coming!”
“Yeah, right.” It just slipped out.
Piper jumped on it. “What do you mean?”
Madison felt bad. Really bad. She shook her head hard. “Nothing.”
Piper squinted at her for a moment, then gasped. “You don’t believe in Santa Claus!”
Madison froze. She wasn’t supposed to tell, and she wasn’t supposed to lie. She couldn’t think what to say, and Piper looked more upset by the second.
“You have to believe in Santa,” Piper wailed. “If you don’t, then we won’t get our Christmas wish!”
“Why not?”
“Because we need magic! I’ve been sending letters to Santa every day. And it’s working. My Dad really likes your mom. Don’t you think she likes him too?”
Madison shrugged. “I guess so.”
“See? It’s working!”
“Santa doesn’t have anything to do with that. Even if he’s real, he’s not here. He can’t make them want to get married so we can be a family together.”
“Christmas magic can go wherever it’s needed. But you have to believe. Especially after I—” Piper’s eyes bugged.
“After you what?”
Piper looked really guilty. “I sorta told my dad we’d been fighting on purpose. So they’d get to know each other.”
Madison’s temper got the best of her. “How could you do that? What were you thinking?”
“Sorry,” Piper whispered.
“My mom will be so mad she’ll never talk to you or your dad again!”
Piper found her voice again. “My dad didn’t get mad. Why would your mom?”
“She just will. What did your dad say?”
“He told me not to tell you.”
Madison flung her arms wide. “What is it with parents telling us not to tell each other things? Who do they think we are? Babies?”
“What did your mom tell you that you’re not supposed to tell me?”
Uh-oh. “Nothing.”
“Lying is wrong,” Piper told her.
Madison stared her down. “I know.”
“Then what?”
Madison felt trapped like a squirrel in the middle of the road with cars coming from both directions. It didn’t matter which way she went. It was all bad. There was no way to tell the truth and do what her mother had told her. Then before she knew she’d decided what to do, words rushed out of her mouth. “She told me not to tell you that Santa isn’t real. Parents leave the presents. So now you know, and it will ruin your Christmas and I’m going to get in trouble for being honest.”
“You’re lying!” Piper screeched.
“No. I’m not.” Madison snatched up her Barbie and her scarf and stuffed them in her backpack.
“What’s going on over there?” Mr. Lieb, the librarian, called from his office at the back.
Madison ran to him. “Can I go to the multi-purpose room to see my mother?”
Piper scrambled after her, crying now. “I need to see my dad, too!”
Mr. Lieb raised his eyebrows. “Can I help?”
Both girls started talking at once. Before they had more than six words out, Mr. Lieb made hushing motions with both hands. “Enough. They can sort it out. Neither one of you say one more word until I get someone from the office to walk you over.” He peered at them over his glasses. “And I mean not one word.”
Madison glared at Piper. This was all her fault. Now she was acting like a big baby, crying great big tears as if someone had killed a kitten. Their parents were never going to fall in love, and they might not even be able to be friends anymore.
Her mom was right. Christmas was awful.
***
By the end of the rehearsal with the second and third graders, Christy had nine messages from her mother on her phone, but she still wasn’t ready to talk to her. She contemplated deleting all of them. She really wanted to—she was inordinately aware of what she wanted lately—but it was such a childish impulse.
Dan sidled up alongside her as the last of the kids left the multi-use room. “Gotcha.”
She jumped, which made him grin.
“What’s so absorbing?”
There was that darned pounding of her heart. Maybe she should ask her doctor for a beta blocker. Or stay away from Dan. “Nothing.”
He peered over shoulder before she could turn her phone off or drop it into her purse. “Haven’t talked to your mom?”
“I don’t want to,” she said.
He lasered a look straight into her heart. “What do you want?”
Her gaze locked on his mouth, and she knew he knew exactly what she wanted. There was no hiding it. But there was no way she’d admit it.
Fortunately, Madison and Piper ran into the room together at that moment, shouting at the top of their lungs, in the midst of an argument.
“Santa Claus is too real!” Piper yelled. “Tell her, Dad.”
Madison looked scared. “She doesn’t know the difference between real and pretend.”
“Hey!” Dan picked Piper up, then looked to Christy for help when his daughter threw her head onto his shoulder and began to sob.
“Great.” Madison covered up her fear by going on the offensive. “If you cry hard enough, your dad will lie some more to make you stop.”
“That’s enough,” Christy said quietly. Too quietly. Madison looked up with alarm. “What is going on here?”
“Nothing,” Madison mumbled.
“Tell. Now.” Christy folded her arms across her chest.
“Madison said Santa isn’t real!” Piper wailed.
Madison glared at all of them.
Menace settled over Dan. “Is that so?”
Piper nodded without lifting her head. “She said i
t’s just parents.”
Christy’s cheeks flamed. This was exactly what she’d been afraid would happen. “Madison?”
Madison’s chin wobbled when she met Christy’s eyes. “I told the truth. I know you said not to, but she kept asking, and I didn’t want to be a liar.”
Piper raised her head to stare Madison down. “My dad’s not a liar, either.”
Dan shot Christy a look replete with accusation and guilt.
“This?” She stabbed a finger straight down. “This right here is why I hate Christmas. Tall tales told to kids to what end? Disappointment. Betrayal. Stomped hearts. So much for the magic of Christmas.”
“That’s not helping,” Dan snapped.
Madison butted in before Christy could reply. “Piper told something she wasn’t supposed to, too.”
Alarm chased all the other emotions out of Dan’s expression, which made Christy’s stomach sink lower than it had already. “What did Piper say?”
Piper raised her head and stopped crying long enough to look daggers at Madison. Both she and Dan spoke at the same time.
“Madison, no,” Dan said.
“You better not tell,” Piper said.
“Tell me this instant, young lady,” Christy demanded.
Silence. Christy could hear the clock above the stage ticking. She held up one finger.
Madison clenched her jaw and her eyes flashed fire.
Christy held up two fingers and started counting to twenty. She was at sixteen when Madison caved.
“Fine. All our fights were pretend. We did it on purpose because we wanted to be sisters. We thought if you guys got to know each other, you’d fall in love and get married, and we could be sisters. Piper told her dad last night. But I don’t want to be her sister anymore.”
Christy gaped at her daughter. Her lungs suddenly felt like they’d turned to cement. She felt like she had when she’d learned Santa wasn’t real, like Piper was feeling now, fragile and disappointed beyond reason, like she’d lost…hope. She felt like she had when her father had left and she’d been sure if her mother would just stop overdoing it at Christmas, he would come back. Once again, she’d been betrayed by her own desires and wishes. She’d been giving in to Christmas, and look what it had gotten her.
Love on Main Street: A Snow Creek Christmas Page 14