A half hour later, Pam found herself stationed at the food table, stuffing her face with food, trying to avoid thinking of her no-show escort.
“Is the food good?” a voice asked from behind. Pam spun around to discover Cassie, timid, and not her usual contrary self.
“The food is great!” Pam announced, none too pleasantly.
Cassie bit her lip and Pam felt sorry for her. The woman was on a mission, and she was making it difficult. Pam softened her approach. “I suppose you know where John is hiding out?”
She nodded, yes, but offered no more.
“Good. At least the man is not in some ditch for a repeat performance. This doctor is not on duty.” She could feel anger rising and filled her mouth with another chocolate coconut ball.
“I like those too.” Cassie smiled, and something in me warmed up to her. “I used to make them with my daughter when she was a toddler.”
“You have a daughter?”
“Oh yes. A successful young woman now, going about looking after her fellow man.”
“That’s nice,” Pam said.
“We separated years ago, and sometimes the pain of watching her from a distance is too much to bear.”
“It’s never too late to make amends between a parent and a child.” Pam noticed her backing off and chuckled. “Tried to tell John the same thing, but he didn’t listen either.”
“John is a good boy at heart. Just testing his wings – so to speak.”
“I believe you! I also see a kind, decent man, but he can’t. Keeps running away from me every time I try to get close.” Pam threw her shoulders back and fixed her gaze on the dance floor. “I’m done trying. He can figure it out for himself.”
Cassie’s smile embodied Pam, and the magnetic pull drew her attention back into the woman’s intense scrutiny. It was plain the woman had seen through her facade. Cassie appeared to possess that same ability to see clear through into her heart.
Time to throw the hound off her trail. “You are a top-notch actress, Cassie. I enjoyed you playing Mrs. Claus.”
“Oh, dear, no. I fear I failed miserably. Hopefully, she wasn’t watching.”
“Watching? Isn’t it Santa’s job to keep abreast of the population to update his naughty list?” Pam played along, snickering at her own words. Every year she’d gotten better at toying with the myth. Her father would roll over in his grave to believe she’d succumbed to such nonsense.
“I sense a touch of mockery. You above all people should believe.” Cassie moved into defense mode.
“Me - why?”
“The gift you received, of course. Mrs. Claus is very selective who receives the ornamental gifts. And yours was thoroughly drenched in hope for the future of Christmas. You’ve been chosen, and I could not be more proud.”
“Chosen? What are you on about?”
“I’ve said too much already. It’s not good to break the rules. Find John and don’t let him go off alone. The matchmaker is never wrong.”
“Matchmaking is it? Well, the north and the south are stuck on middle ground.” Pam folded and rubbed the flow of blood into her arms. “Besides, how could I ever help John in his mission to create a change for Christmas? I don’t even understand what you are talking about.”
“Understanding is overrated. Move with the heart, have faith, and he will set all things straight. You possess the key, don’t you?”
A voice spoke from behind. “Stop it, Cassie. I won’t allow you to use your charm to draw her into my troubles. Pamela is a self-made woman and makes her own choices.”
“Of course, she will, dear boy. I have no doubts the key will unlock Christmas and save it from eternal destruction.”
John appeared to understand her words, but to Pam’s mind the new puzzle pieces simply added to an already complicated upside-down picture.
“Please, leave us now.” Cassie bent forward and planted a peck on Pam’s cheek and whispered. “I have always loved you. I’m truly sorry not to have known you.”
Pam and John watched Cassie walk away. When she moved out of sight, he turned toward Pam. “If you’re still in the mood, I’m ready to decorate my little tree. We missed step one in our evening plans.”
“Where did you go? To be honest, I’m growing weary of your disappearing acts.”
“Went on a hunt, but came up empty.” Pam could see a deep sadness setting into his face. “Will you help me with the tree?”
Pam accepted his outstretched hand, not sure whether it was curiosity, charm, or love dust that kept her under his spell. They walked without speaking down the abandoned street. Colorful light displays twinkled all around them, but the fans of Christmas, now finished their day’s activities in the streets, had gathered to dance the night away. John unlocked the door of the center and Pam followed him inside. She let him lead and without a doubt realized she’d fallen in love with a man she barely knew.
Pam and John strung a small set of lights and wound gold ribbon through the branches. Next came the balls, angels, reindeer, snoopy and Nutcracker characters. One lonely Santa remained in the box. John lifted it out and held it, gazing at the figurine for a long time.
“My father is getting older,” John said. “He expects me to carry on the family business.”
“Does his line of work not interest you?”
“Yes, most of it does. I love the motivation of giving that Father’s mission statement provides. It’s all very captivating. For some bizarre reason, I imagined the grass greener out here in the real world, and left my family in pursuit of a better life.”
“And received a concussion for your effort. I remember that part of your journey,” Pam said.
“I didn’t leave home that long ago – but that’s debatable depending on who you talk to.” Pam chuckled when Cassie popped into her mind. Apparently John was thinking along the same line. He continued. “I suppose I should be grateful to have met the baker. Otherwise, I’d never know about the folks at home. Although I’m certain she’d have found me no matter where I tried to hide.”
“I’m sure that your parents understand a young man needs to sow his wild oats before fully committing to the family business. Without a vision, it’s better off sold or run by others.”
“Not in my father’s case. I am an only son, so the responsibility to comply falls on me.”
“I’m sorry. You are in a difficult predicament,” Pam said.
“More than you think. It appears I’ve lost the key to go home.”
Pam reached in her handbag. “You can use my key,” Pam offered jokingly.
“No. Yours is a replica,” John said in a serious thoughtful tone.” The real key to Christmas has gone missing. I’m sure I saw it at the bottom of this box earlier. My mind hadn’t connected the puzzle pieces together. Just figured it was a strange-looking key, but now I know it’s my only way home.”
Pam’s detected movement off to the side in the main room. Someone else was in the building. John noticed at the same time. They crept out and saw a green blur pass into another room. They followed, and followed. Every time they figured they were getting close, the shadow vanished and reappeared just out of reach.
Pam was ready to call it quits when the back alley where they now stood glowed as if in broad daylight. All thoughts of the assailant fled from her mind as she stared in disbelief. Someone had discarded props from the Santa Ville play awaiting Wednesday’s garbage pickup. The antique double door leaned against the building. It radiated a warm gold, red and green, and seemed to lure them forward as if in a trance. Pam’s mind commanded her feet to stop, but while engulfed in that awareness, her toes lifted from the ground and drifted forward. She frantically looked toward John. He grabbed her hand.
“Pam, I am so sorry. I promise I’ll give you choices. But today, I need your help. The village is in trouble, and it will take two of us to save it.”
As the door drew closer, and they showed no sign of slowing, Pam yelled, “John, I’m scared.”
&nbs
p; “Nothing to fear. I’ve done this many times.”
The key from the box of decorations stuck out from the lock, and when John grabbed hold, it sucked them inside. Pam closed her eyes to stop her head from spinning. The temperature grew colder, and at some point, a thick, red cape swooped around her chilled body. A woollen hat covered her head, and soft mittens worked onto her hands. She found John’s arm and hung on for dear life. When the whirling tunnel ended, they stepped out onto a snow-covered surface. Icy flatlands bordered them on three sides but directly ahead stood a humongous mountain of snow.
John panicked at the sight. He threw off his mitts and began to dig.
“What are you doing, John?”
“The door is here – somewhere.” He bounced to his feet. “This won’t work. I know another way in.” He counted his steps and stopped at a shorter, more rectangular shape in the snow. He dropped to his knees again. “This will be easier. Dig, Pam! It’s freezing out here.”
Pam obeyed eager to find whatever John thought should be there. After five minutes he shouted, “Kringle!” She assumed he was pleased. After a few sweeps with his arm, which sprayed a cascade of flying, fluffy snow, a small door appeared. His enthusiasm was short-lived.
“Someone locked the tunnel entrance. It’s never locked.” John thought for a moment, then yanked Pam to her feet.
“This is your part! This is why you had to come,” John said. Fearful excitement etched his brow.
“My part? That’s absurd. I don’t even know where we are.”
“Santa Ville, in the North Pole. I’m home, and they’ve locked me out.” He removed the key from his pocket and stared at it. “Only true love can turn the key together. And we’ve been sent the key to the kingdom.” He stared deep into her eyes. “Do you love me, Pam, or will Christmas be lost forever?”
“I’m cold, does that count for anything?” Pam did not want to commit to this crazy man’s warped idea of love.
“It’s warm inside. I plead my case.” John’s expression begged and she melted. “All this chaos must have happened when I ran away from home. My parents are ready to pass the torch, and I disappeared. Evil always tries to weasel in on my stupidity and ruin one of the greatest fables of all time.”
“The torch? You mean the family business?”
“Yes. It appears I have no choice in my destiny. But I am relieved to find that it took fleeing this place to discover my true calling. Now my heart is willing accept the role designated for me.”
“But I have a choice – you promised, right?”
“You do, but can you make it from inside, after Santa Ville returns to its former state?”
“Agreed.” Pam took his hand that held the key and together they placed it inside the lock. It did not turn. “So much for that theory. Guess it only fits the transporting door.”
“Do you have the smaller key? The one Mother sent you.”
“Mother?” Pam asked.
“The Miracle-maker has handpicked you to replace Mrs. Claus. The folks are retiring. We would be the most important match of her career.”
“John, surely you know how bizarre this all appears to an outsider?”
“Once inside, the kingdom will speak for itself. Please, Pamela. My parents and all the workers may die a slow death under this mountain of snow.”
The doctor in her sprang to life as her presence here started to make sense. “I suppose that’s the reason Mrs. Claus chose me, because I’ve sworn an oath to heal. Yes, John, I will tend to any injuries the collapse caused before I leave. But I can’t stay here forever if that’s what they expect of me.”
“Let’s worry about that later,” John said.
Pam rummaged through her bag and found the ornament, thankful that she’d picked it up from the counter at the last minute, hoping to adorn John’s little tree in the storage room. John held her hand and a warm surge permeated her body. She softened under the tenderness of his gaze. Together their hands touched the ornamental key to the lock and this time the entranceway sprung open.
“I’ll lead the way. Might have to crawl some. This is the door for the elves.”
Pam chuckled. Of course, it was. This adventure was getting wackier by the minute, but her body won the debate. She craved heat. Before they proceeded inside, she heard creaking and stepped back. John caught her from stumbling.
“Quick, we need to go.” John pushed her forward.
Reluctantly, Pam slipped in behind John and felt wonderful warmth within the confined space. Snow insulation. As they started forward on their hands and knees, she turned and pulled the door shut behind them, and then hurried to catch up. She kept John’s feet in view the entire time.
Crawling was the only choice as the tunnel was only three feet high. Pam ducked and covered her head when a loud crack sounded above, fearing snow would bury them alive before she could stand on two feet again. Keeping her head low, she inched along. Thoughts of regret in beginning this trek plagued her every move. The light ahead grew stronger, and she lifted her eyes to find John facing her with his arms outstretched.
“The floor drops here to normal height. I’ll help you down. The rungs on the ladder are small for our feet. Can’t have the doctor tripping up on the final leg of the journey.”
Pam wrapped her arms around John’s neck and he pulled her out as if a featherweight. Once on her feet, she became captivated by the unguarded truth his face revealed. A mix of compassion, love, sorrow, and uncertainty clouded his expression and stilled her heart. They were on this quest together and fear was not an option.
John’s hands lingered on her waist and his steady eyes locked with hers. Pam reinforced her guard and refused her emotions to fall prey to this deception and sweep her under its control. She needed to keep a level head in this magical place that he’d brought her into. How could she be certain that her heart was beating its own rhythm and not one implanted by something else? After all, John Doe’s had certainly sung diverse melodies in the hospital, ones that had matched his ever-changing range of moods. Maybe the rhythm anomaly was characteristic of Santa Ville.
They found themselves in a huge cavern. The room was empty and John’s voice echoed. “This is the departure ring – the location where Santa takes sets out on his Christmas Eve ride around the world. Everyone gathers here and sings him off. It’s a joyous time. A well-deserved reward for a year of hard work in the toy factory.”
Pam merely nodded, afraid of what might spew from her mouth. The notion of the Santa legend – forbidden her entire childhood – containing one ounce of truth, left her stranded at a crossroad she should have navigated years ago. The kid in her longed to give in, but the adult dug her heels in.
John took her hand and led her to a massive door. “Accept whatever you see beyond this door at face value. Believe your eyes and listen to your heart, Pam. Only a child-like faith can comprehend the truth that lives in this place. It is one of the many marvels created by the Miracle Maker centuries ago.”
“I’ll try,” Pam said. And she genuinely meant it. Her educated mind provided no logical answers to this fantasyland, so faith was a welcome option.
Once inside the next cavern, John immediately pushed her behind a huge pillar and held up a lone finger to his lips. Her heart raced, but curiosity won over as she watched the color drain from John’s face. She peeked around the column into the room beyond. A large overbearing figure, clad in a dark cloak, stood with his back to us, cracking a whip and barking orders to a crew of frightened workers.
“Move it! The sooner you get this place dismantled the happier my boss will be.”
The elves – representative of any pictures she’d seen in a child’s Christmas book – shuffled their feet and kept their heads low. Tearing apart their workstations appeared to be also ripping out a piece of their heart. It showed in their gloomy expressions and lethargic movements. It took little imagination to see this was Santa’s workshop, or what remained of it. The snow outside still covered the glass wi
ndows overhead that served as a ceiling. The artificial light in the room emanated from huge lamps that cast flickering shadows against the bare walls. The cavern was five stories and the higher it rose the more ominous it appeared.
Pam followed John’s lead, and they dashed from pillar to pillar until they reached a stairwell. They slipped in behind the exit door and collapsed against the wall.
“John,” she whispered. “What is happening here?”
He shrugged, deeply etched worry lines marring his face. The structure gave another loud groan, and Pam held her breath.
“We need to get to the Penthouse.”
“This place has a penthouse?”
“I live with my parents up there. We need to see if they’re okay. Pam, I am so sorry for all this.”
“It’s a little too late for sorry. We’re here. Now let’s go rescue your parents.”
Pam forced herself to sound brave but her insides comprised of mush. What does one do when faced with their deepest and darkest forbidden dream? Despite the chaos, she felt the exposed furrow closing over in her heart and the immediate growth of dead seeds sprouting to life. A miracle of fruitfulness opened her eyes to a garden of freedom and legacy within this place. Her father invaded the peaceful revelation when in her mind he became the man with the whip, for he’d equally snatched this dream from her heart.
As a result, Pam staggered under the weight of conscience, reality, and myth.
Pam shook her head clear of debilitating thoughts and determined to focus on the moment. John’s parents may need medical assistance. They needed to hurry. She started for the stairs, and John overtook her, regaining the lead. The fifth floor opened to a large foyer decorated solely in red and white. It was startling to the eye and gave off joyful vibes the moment her feet hit the plush carpet. It served to muffle their arrival as John placed his ear against each adjoining door, listening then silently moving on.
At the third door, John halted. Motioning for Pam to remain in the foyer, she shook her head from side to side, vehemently. No way was that man going in there without her. John surrendered to her insistent glare and covered her hands with his, drawing her closer into the circle of his arms. John chose now to finish the kiss he’d started back in the storage room. This time he lingered, as if also not wanting this moment to end – or perhaps fearful that the next one might frighten Pam away for good. John tasted of sweet minty candy-cane, and when his eyes opened, displaying pools of swimming emotion, Pam moaned. The magic was winning – oh how she prayed John was real, and at the completion of this nightmare they’d be back under the mistletoe in the storage room of the center, laughing at their overtaxed imaginations. Christmas in July was turning out to be more than she bargained for this year.
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