Do You Believe in Santa?

by Sierra Donovan

  He sighed. The dinner crowd wouldn’t allow for beating around the bush. “Sherry, she told me all about it. Why the tap dance?”

  Sherry blinked. “What did she tell you?”

  “That she saw Santa Claus when she was eight. Isn’t that what she told you?”

  “Sure. But she told me not to tell you.”

  He didn’t want to put his foot in his mouth again, so he proceeded with caution. “Do you believe it?” he asked. Maybe there was something in the water here.

  “That she saw Santa?” She stared at him. “Of course not. That’s crazy.”

  Jake flinched. At least he hadn’t used that word. But still, his reaction must have hit Mandy like a slap in the face. As he opened his mouth to speak in her defense, Sherry turned toward the kitchen. “Be back in a minute.”

  Jake tried to eat, but the sandwich held about as much interest as a bowl of wax fruit.

  When Sherry returned, he didn’t waste any time. “You know she’s not crazy.”

  “I didn’t say Mandy was crazy. Believing in Santa Claus is crazy. As far as I know she’s totally normal in every other way.”

  “And everybody knows about this but me?”

  “Well, you’re new around here,” Sherry said. “And it was summer when you came. And she asked me not to tell.” She shrugged. “I don’t know if she asked anybody else.”

  “Why would she try so hard to keep it from me if everybody knows about it?”

  He knew the answer before Sherry spoke. She asked, “How did you take it?”

  “Never mind.” He swiped his hand through his hair. “I’m still trying to get my head around it. I heard how she saw Santa Claus. How’d everyone else find out?”

  “It was a big deal,” Sherry said. “Big for Tall Pine, anyway. She talked to a TV reporter, got her picture in the paper, all that stuff. And the kids at school made fun of her.”

  “Including you?”

  “Well . . . yes.” Sherry reddened. “But that was a long time ago. Remember, I was a kid, too.”

  Kids could be awful. Jake remembered that from trying to fit in at new schools while his family moved around. But adults should know better. “This Mandy Claus nickname,” he said. “You know it hurts her feelings, right?”

  Sherry gave him what looked like an honest-to-goodness double take. “No. Everybody loves Mandy. We’ve always kidded her about it, but it doesn’t bother her. Not since she was little, anyway.”

  They stared at each other. One of them was way off.

  Jake heard Mandy’s voice in his head: I can take it from everyone else. His stomach twisted.

  “See, what happened was . . .” Sherry looked upward in thought. “At first, when the kids teased her, she argued and cried. But then, it was funny—she just stopped arguing. She’d shrug her shoulders, or she’d laugh it off. She was like Teflon. A lot of backbone, that girl.”

  Sherry glanced toward the waiting area as a new set of customers walked in. “The thing is, she tells that story to any kid who walks in the store if they ask. The other store owners all know about it, and they send the kids over. It’s like a tradition.” Her eyes zeroed in on him. “Why would she do all that—why would she go to work in a Christmas store—if it still bothered her?”

  Good question, he thought. I’ll have to ask her. If she’ll speak to me.

  “She doesn’t make a big deal of it,” Sherry went on. “She doesn’t take out a billboard. But everybody knows this town wouldn’t be the same without her.”

  She tore off Jake’s ticket and laid it on the table, although he’d barely touched his food. She started to walk away. Then she took a step back.

  “If she was worried about you knowing, it’s a big deal to her,” Sherry said. “So don’t you hurt her feelings. Or else.”

  When Mandy heard the footsteps on her front porch, something loosened in her chest, and she knew she’d been waiting for the sound.

  She reached for the remote control in the dark living room and paused the movie to listen. The steps came again, followed by a knock, and her insides tightened once more. She wasn’t ready. She didn’t know if she’d ever be ready.

  She opened the door. Jake stood outside, wearing the blue jacket she’d bought him. Part of her wanted to launch into his arms, and that part terrified her. She was weak tonight. Weak enough that earlier, she’d been thinking of giving up everything she’d believed since she was a little girl.

  She didn’t trust herself, so she didn’t open the door all the way.

  Jake inclined his head to peer past her at the glow from the television screen. “What are you watching?”

  “The Godfather.”

  He gave a faint smile. “That sounds ominous.”

  At that smile, something caught in her throat. She didn’t answer.

  Jake huddled deeper in his jacket, and Mandy felt the bite of the air coming through the gap in the door. “Mind if I come in?” he asked.

  She clutched the doorjamb. “I’m sorry, Jake. But I don’t know if I’m ready to talk.”

  “I think we ought to.” He passed a hand roughly through his hair, a familiar gesture that made him look rumpled and vulnerable. Mandy tightened her grip on the doorjamb.

  Candid brown eyes met hers under the porch light. She was shaking. Have some guts, she told herself. It can’t be any worse than sitting alone in the dark having Häagen-Dazs for dinner.

  “Okay.” Rather than let him in, she grabbed the sweater she’d thrown on the back of the couch and slipped through the door into the cold air outside.

  He stared at her. “You really like to have an exit strategy, don’t you?”

  “What?” She pulled on the sweater. It didn’t do much to guard against the chill.

  “Never mind.”

  So now she had both of them standing outside in the bitter October night. Her knees were knocking. Let Jake think it was just from the cold. Mandy wrapped her arms around herself, under the sweater, and waited, afraid to speak.

  Jake plunged ahead. “Mandy, I know I said everything wrong earlier tonight. I stepped on something really important to you. I hurt your feelings. And I’m sorry.” He toed a board on the porch, his eyes still on hers. “What I want more than anything is just to get back to where we were.”

  “You mean, before I told you?” Her heart was in her throat. “I don’t know if we can.”

  “Why not? I’m trying to tell you it doesn’t matter.”

  She stiffened. “It matters to me.”

  “I know it does. What I mean is, I don’t have a problem with it.”

  She knew he intended for that to be good news. It might be the best she could hope for. But her heart sank at the thought. Stand your ground, something deep inside her insisted.

  “Mandy, I’m lost. What can I do to make this better?”

  “I don’t want you to overlook it.” She looked down. “I guess I hoped you’d believe me.”

  “I believe you believe it. Isn’t that enough? It’s not like it’s a religious difference.”

  “Isn’t it?” she said. “Faith is evidence of things unseen.”

  “Right. But . . .” He raked a hand through his hair again. “This is the deal-breaker? Really? Because I don’t have an answer for that. Except that I’ve always told you the truth. I’m telling you the truth right now. If you expect me to turn around and say I believe in Santa Claus . . .”

  She clutched her arms tighter around herself. “I’ve always hoped there was someone else who believed it. Maybe even someone else who saw him, too.”

  Jake gave a heavy sigh. “Now, that would be some fierce competition. But if there is a guy like that out there, I don’t know where he is. Maybe he’s ninety years old. Maybe he’s in Denmark. Or maybe he’s already married with eight tiny reindeer. I don’t know.” Jake leveled his direct gaze at her. “Here’s what I do know. He didn’t fly out here today to see you. He didn’t drive to your store without stopping. He’s not standing out here on your front porch,
freezing. Doesn’t any of that tell you anything?”

  His words seemed to hang in the cold air between them. He was angry, he was impatient, but he was here.

  Mandy gulped. “It means a lot.”

  He was right. She wasn’t being fair. And, she realized, she still wasn’t being honest. She owed him that much. She pulled in a deep breath and willed tears back.

  I’ve always told you the truth....

  She dug deep and tried to find a way to explain why it mattered so much.

  When she forced the words out, what finally came was: “Jake, I’m scared.”

  “You’re what?” The anger seemed to drain away as his eyes searched hers.

  She lowered her eyes. “I’m afraid—if I’m with someone who doesn’t believe me, after a while I’ll stop believing it myself.”

  She didn’t dare look at him. Her legs rattled with a life all their own.

  “Hey.” She felt his hands on her shoulders, and that made her want to cry even more. “I’m not asking you to do that.”

  “I know. But you’re so . . . realistic.”

  “You make it sound dirty.”

  She let out a shaky laugh. “Really. Think about it.” She spoke through a huge ache in her throat. “If it wasn’t my imagination, I can’t be the only person this ever happened to. Where are the others?” She peered up at a blurry Jake. “I think most of them stopped believing it a long time ago. A lot of them probably right away, when they were kids, when people told them it couldn’t be real. And the rest . . . maybe just bit by bit . . .” She swallowed hard. “On nights like this it’s really hard for me to keep believing it. Like after my mom died—”

  “—and you went to Mount Douglas.”

  “Right.” Heaven help her, sometimes he did understand her. She blinked, and thank goodness, the tears stayed back. Her vision cleared, giving her a better view of Jake and his searching eyes.

  Gently, he squeezed her shoulders, making her want to trust him, want to lean on him. That might be even scarier. “What happens if you stop believing?” he asked softly.

  “Then there’s no magic,” she whispered. “And I’ve probably been crazy all this time.”

  “Mandy,” he said, “I’m a logical guy. I admit it. That’s why I acted the way I did earlier tonight. But there’s nothing wrong with you. I know that.” He reached up and traced her cheek with the outside of his fingers. “Guys like me look for reasons. We look for explanations. I’ve been trying for hours to make sense out of this, and I only know two things. When it comes to you and Santa Claus, ‘sense’ doesn’t work. And I love you.”

  Mandy swayed on her feet. She didn’t know what to say. But she was afraid if she gave in now, she’d be giving up a piece of herself.

  What are you talking about? You told him you believe in Santa Claus. And he’s still here.

  Jake’s eyes didn’t leave her face. “All I’m saying is I want to be with you. Who knows? Maybe this whole deal will fall apart, Regal Hotels will toss me out on my ear, and I’ll end up homeless. I’ll be the crazy street guy of Tall Pine, and you’ll be the normal one.”

  Hold your ground, a voice in her head insisted. If there’s one person in the world who’s got to believe you, it’s—

  Jake reached up and cupped her face in his hands. They were ice-cold.

  But when he kissed her, his lips were warm. Mandy felt herself melting, and the little flashing warning light in her mind grew dimmer, the part of her that wasn’t sure if this was good or bad.

  An icy gust blew straight into them, drawing them closer together. Mandy held on to Jake and stopped thinking about good or bad. Stopped thinking about anything. There was only this moment and the solid, reassuring feeling of being in his arms.

  Jake broke the kiss and pulled her tighter against him. The wind bit his face. They’re going to find us out here in the morning, his jet-lagged brain said. A statue of two icicle people.

  He opened his eyes and saw two small flecks of white on his jacket sleeve. No, it couldn’t be. He wasn’t one for magical signs, but . . .

  “Mandy?”

  “Mm?” Her face was snuggled into the shoulder of his jacket, whether for comfort or for warmth, he wasn’t sure.

  “Does it really snow here in October?”

  She pulled back. “No. It never snows before Thanksgiving. It—”

  The flecks were swirling around them now, blown toward the front of the house by the wind, flickering in the illumination of her porch light. Mandy tilted her face upward, letting the flakes fall on her cheeks.

  A smile spread slowly across her face, and it was absolutely radiant.

  Chapter 14

  As soon as they were inside, Mandy went to the window to pull the curtains open, letting in a view of the snowfall. Jake remembered she’d told him how excited Southern Californians got about snow. Tonight, he couldn’t blame her. One freak October snow flurry couldn’t solve everything. But it had come at the right time, lightening the mood, and the flakes swirling in the darkness outside were dazzling to look at.

  Jake joined her at the window and put his arm around her. “Do you have any wood?” he asked. “I could build a fire.”

  “There’s a wood pile behind the house.” Hesitation flickered in her eyes. “But you’ve been out in the cold enough for one night.”

  Her answer gave him an out, but she didn’t quite tell him not to do it. “I don’t mind.” He lifted a strand of her hair with fingers that were still numb. “Show me where it is, before I thaw out.”

  “I’ll make hot chocolate,” she offered.

  “Deal.” He grinned. “Or I could make the cocoa, and you could carry the firewood.”

  Mandy lifted her chin. “We’ll compromise. Come on.”

  She guided him to the back door just off the kitchen and started to lead the way outside. Jake stopped her with a hand on her arm, gently pushing her back into the house. “It’s okay. Just point the way.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes. It’s a guy thing. And you’d better close the door before you let all the cold inside.”

  After Mandy went in, he made his way briskly down a set of wooden steps toward the woodpile. The house blocked the wind on this side, but the cold still seized around him as if it had missed him during his brief absence. A guy thing, indeed. What else besides macho chivalry could possess him to volunteer to come back out into this? It had to be true love.

  Without the wind to carry them, the snowflakes fell straighter on this side of the house. They still seemed fairly sparse. Fortunately, that also meant they hadn’t done much to dampen the wood. Jake grabbed a quick armload and vaulted back up the steps as fast as his cargo would allow.

  He walked through the kitchen past Mandy, diligently at work with a saucepan on the stove, and made straight for the fireplace. By the time she entered the living room carrying two mugs, he’d coaxed the wood into a respectable blaze.

  She raised her eyebrows and nodded at the flames. “You’re pretty good at that.”

  “I’d better be.” Jake got up from his kneeling position, brushing his hands off on his slacks. “Remember, I grew up back east.”

  Mandy set the two oversized mugs on the end of the coffee table closest to the fire, and they settled on the couch to watch the drifting flakes through the front window. Jake circled his arm around her shoulders, savoring her warmth as much as the heat from the flames.

  “It probably won’t last long,” she said. “It’s too early in the year.”

  Jake sipped from his mug. The rich flavor didn’t taste anything like the instant packets he was used to. “What’s in this?”

  “Real chocolate. Condensed milk. Vanilla. And a little cinnamon.”

  “You had all that stuff in the kitchen?”

  “It’s always good to be prepared.”

  Jake took another sip, letting the cocoa seep into him as the fire brought back some of the circulation to his legs and feet.

  “I missed you
,” Mandy said.

  “It’s good to be back.”

  He hoped things between them were finally back where they’d been when he arrived this afternoon. The night had taken a dramatic turn for the better, and Jake was reluctant to question it. It also felt fragile, like a branch that it might not be smart to put too much weight on just yet. So he tried for a lighter note.

  He glanced at the now-blank television screen. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “What?” she asked.

  “Why The Godfather?”

  “Well, number one, it’s a great story.”

  “I agree. Now, what’s the other reason?”

  She blew into her cocoa, avoiding his eyes. “I love Al Pacino in it. He starts out so vulnerable. I know where he’s headed, but I still enjoy watching it.”

  She cupped her cocoa mug, still gazing into the drink. “I’m sorry about all the drama,” she said. “I kept stalling, waiting for a good time to tell you. . . .”

  He pressed his lips to her brow. “Don’t worry about it.”

  She rested her cheek against his shoulder, and Jake relished the feel of it. He was, he realized, bone tired, and he would have been happy to stay in this spot for the next several hours without moving. The cocoa warmed him from the inside, and he felt a deepening sense of contentment.

  After a few minutes, however, he sensed a quiet shift in Mandy’s mood. He couldn’t see what she was looking at, or even whether her eyes were open, but he realized her head wasn’t turned toward the window anymore.

  If he had to guess, her eyes were directed at the floor in front of the fireplace.

  Jake considered the spot. It wasn’t a traditional raised hearth; only a flat area of brick created a safe amount of space between the screened-in flames and the carpet. As firelight flickered over the floor, the space did seem to take on a magical look. He tried to imagine what she was seeing.

  “This is where it happened?” he asked. “Right here in front of the fireplace?”

  Her head stirred on his shoulder. “Are you trying to humor me?”

  “No. I want to be able to see it. To picture it,” he amended.