First thing she lifted was an envelope, a single word written in red wax crayon. Santa. At least, that’s what she deciphered. Must be from Jonathan. She put it aside. She’d deliver it on her next Santa interview.
Another envelope sported her sister’s handwriting. Guilt twinged. She should call and let Hannah know she’d arrived. In a moment. Sarah squeezed the bulkier envelope. What was inside? She tore it open. As she turned the envelope, open side facing down, something slid out and fell to the ground before Sarah could catch it. Stooping, she picked it up and brushed her hand over the slender green leaves. She touched the red satin ribbon then twirled the pearly berries between her fingers. Mistletoe. Why had Hannah slipped this into her luggage?
Placing the mistletoe sprig down on the table, Sarah examined the envelope again. Inside a sheet of paper had remained behind. She unfolded the single page of writing.
Dear Sarah
I’m sorry we didn’t part on better terms. And I’m sorry you won’t be here for Christmas, or your birthday, but I do pray you’ll find what you’re looking for in Lapland—your love story. Most of all, I pray you’ll once again discover the true meaning of Christmas.
I hope this sprig of mistletoe will give your log cabin a tiny feel of Christmas. Maybe it’ll give you some inspiration and help, too.
All my love
Your big sis, Hannah.
Ps. I hope you don’t mind that we snuck these things into your suitcase. The boys insisted. We’ll have your Christmas gifts waiting under the tree when you return. Please will you deliver Jonathan’s letter to Santa, and take care if you choose to follow through on Matthew’s request.
The line was followed by a smiley face.
Matthew’s request? What was her nephew up to this time?
Sarah smiled as she searched for a place to hang the mistletoe. With its double volume ceiling, the lounge wasn’t an option. She settled on the entrance into the kitchen. She could see it best from where she’d be writing. Hannah had prepared the decoration with a blob of Blu-Tack stuck to the end of the ribbon, ready to hang. Sarah shortened the ribbon by tying it into a perfect bow at the end of the green stems then pressed the Blu-Tack and ribbon against the top of the doorway. For a moment she gazed at the small dangling decoration, its smooth-edged, oval, green leaves; clusters of waxy, white berries; and soft, red ribbon bringing a touch of Yuletide color. It was beginning to feel like Christmas.
She glanced at the last item on the table. Must be from Matthew. Sitting down on one of the chairs, she toyed with the package. Soft, wrapped in a plastic packet, and taped closed well. What did Hannah mean by take care?
Digging a fingernail into the plastic, she punctured the packet then tore it open and pulled out—my swimsuit? She retrieved the note stuck to it, recognizing Matthew’s grade three handwriting.
Auntie Sarah, I think it’s awesome you’ve gone to Lapland. High-five. I Googled the place and found all these crazy things they do there, like racing reindeer and huskies. You so have to do that if you get time. Another thing you MUST do is jump into an ice hole. I dare you. It sounds SO COOL. I know you won’t think to pack in your swimsuit with all that snow there, so I asked my mom to find yours and pack it with my note. Just so you know, they call the hole in the ice an avanto.
When you go to see Santa, will you tell him that for Christmas I’d really like a PlayStation 4? You will go see him, won’t you—for research? You have to. If you don’t, how can we sing about you kissing Santa Claus? You have the mistletoe, so now you have to. (I gave mom the idea.)
Matthew
Great. Now she had a dare to contend with—although it sounded like two—and no excuse to get out of either.
Holding onto her swimsuit, Sarah glanced up at the mistletoe and released a slow sigh. What would it be like to kiss Santa under that mistletoe? What would it be like to sauna with Niklas, taking that crazy leap into the ice hole together? Both images caused her heart to beat out of rhythm, something it hadn’t done in forever. After Andrew, she’d placed a hedge around herself, falling in love only through her characters where it was safe. So how was it possible that she now found herself attracted so fast to two men at the same time? Or were they really only one? The more she thought about it, the more convinced she became—those baby blues were far too similar. She would keep a close watch on Santa and Niklas. Really close.
As for that attraction... Had to be her muse. What else could it be?
Sarah glanced at her hand, the number penned on her skin almost washed into oblivion. Shoot. In her eagerness and enjoyment of the sauna and shower, she’d totally forgotten about Santa’s phone number. She reached for her phone and punched in the number, saving it under ‘S’. She should call and ask him to come around after work tonight to continue their conversation, before he got too busy with Christmas stuff. She still had a lot of questions for him. But Niklas was coming over later to sort out her sauna.
Two men in her cabin, at the same time? Could be an impossible feat though, even for Santa.
Sarah glanced at the time on her phone. Too early to call. She typed a text message, recalled Santa’s number, and pressed send.
Pausing before pulling her laptop closer, she typed another text—one telling Hannah she’d arrived safely, that it was beautiful here, and to give the boys her love. She’d Skype soon.
Sarah opened her blank manuscript and saved it under a new name. My Secret Santa. Closing her eyes, she drew a deep breath. When she opened them, her eight good fingers moved over the keyboard, thumb and index fingers raised awkwardly in the air.
Jessica Mattison had no doubt in her mind—she’d been struck by what all people in her profession feared most, and it scared her wordless. A diagnosis consisting of two small, yet dreaded words. Writer’s block.
Thanks to that sauna, her muse was hot, and the idea to write this story based on her own experience, nothing short of brilliant. Who knew real life would be her writing prompt? The only thing that concerned her now was pulling off that happily-ever-after for her hero and heroine. No way could she draw on real life for that.
How would he get through the afternoon, giving child after child ‘Santa Magic’, when all he could think about was how to extend his time at Sarah’s cabin later? The sauna and fireplace wouldn’t take long to prepare and light. Still, Niklas had faith that something would keep him there longer. Look at what happened last night. Being so close as he held her hand to examine her singed fingers... Not that he’d wish anything bad on Sarah purely to spend time with her.
The vibration in his shirt pocket drew his attention. Niklas motioned to Orvo, the elderly elf, to hold off on the next family and give him a comfort break.
Inside the bathroom, he whipped out his phone. One message. He opened the unread text.
Dear Santa, though I do prefer to call you Nick—makes me feel less like a five-year-old. Any chance we could continue our interview in private later? If so, please steer your reindeer in the direction of No. 1 Toivonen cabins around 7.30 tonight. I presume you know where that is, seeing as you’re Santa? I’ll have a pot of coffee ready. Or would you prefer cookies and milk? J Miss No Name.
His heart plummeted. Had she recognized him last night? Was she deliberately putting him in a predicament to see if he and Santa were one and the same? She didn’t seem the type of person who’d double book, and yet, here she was inviting Santa over at the same time as their prior arrangements. Unless she’d forgotten about her landlord and the sauna. This could be complicated. Thankfully for now he was Santa, and Santa knew all about making Christmas magic.
First, he’d buy some time.
Dear Miss No Name, you know that I’m an old man. I need to get home and to bed. I can spare you around twenty minutes. Yes, I do know all the addresses in the world, and as Toivonen’s is not far from my office, how about I see you at 7.15. Coffee will keep me up all night, and I only do cookies and milk on Christmas Eve. Hot chocolate would be good, if you have any. Santa Claus, or
as you prefer, Nick.
After sending the message, Niklas dialed his best friend. Alexis’s Lapland Adventures would come in handy right now.
The phone rang. And rang. “Come on,” Niklas willed his friend to answer.
“Hei.”
“Alexis, hei. Thank heavens you answered. Listen quick, I need your help. Don’t ask any questions, but can you meet me at my house tonight at seven ten?”
“Of course.”
“Kiitos.”
“You’re welcome, Niklas.”
“One more favor—bring your wooden sleigh, the Santa-style one with six reindeer pulling it.”
“Why?”
“I’ll explain later, but right now I need you to say you can help me.”
“This better be good, my friend.”
“Believe me, it is.” Niklas sucked in his breath. “One other thing.”
Alexis huffed on the other side of the line. “I thought you said one favor. This is now three. You know you’re—”
“Pushing it. I know. Dress in that spare Santa suit and beard of your father’s...and make sure you dress warm beneath it.”
“What?”
“Please, Alexis.”
“All right. On one condition.”
“Yes?”
Alexis chuckled. “I don’t have to climb down any chimneys.”
“You won’t.” He’d owe his friend big after this. “Alexis, thanks.”
“As long as I get the inside scoop on what this is all about.”
Niklas chuckled. “Don’t be late. Punctuality is paramount tonight.” He tapped the screen and cut the call. Yes, his plan should work well. Being Santa and himself at the same time would be no problem at all. All Sarah Jones needed was a moment.
Chapter 7
Unable to suppress his smile, Niklas steered the wooden sleigh through the snow from his house to Sarah’s. The six reindeer pulling them looked so good he feared they might take off into the sky. Jingling a tune, the bells around their necks announced their arrival.
On the seat beside Niklas stood Risto, legs pinned against the curved dashboard, barking their way across the open white terrain. Risto had a thing about reindeer, and Niklas still couldn’t figure out if his dog loved or hated them.
Mila lay on the backseat, head resting on her front paws, while Alexis crouched on the floor beside her. Out of sight.
Niklas spurred the reindeer on, twice around Sarah’s cabin, accompanied by his loud ha-ha-ha, Risto’s incessant barking, and the jingling of bells. If that didn’t draw her attention, nothing would.
As he pulled to a stop outside the cabin, the front door flew open. Pale light trickled onto the dark porch. Sarah’s face appeared in the doorway then disappeared for a moment before the porch brightened as she flipped the light switch. Reappearing, she waved.
Santa-clad Niklas bounded out the sleigh, Risto in hot pursuit. The dog took off across the snow as Mila gave a whimper, stopping Niklas in his tracks. He turned, swept her up in his arms and carried her to the top of the steps. She waddled across the porch, stopping at Sarah’s feet.
Sarah bent down and ruffled the fur around Mila’s neck. “Hey, girl, it’s good to see you again.”
Mila rubbed her nose against Sarah’s leg then eased past her into the cabin.
At the sound of Risto’s bark, Niklas turned. The male retriever took the stairs two at a time and way too fast. Landing on the icy porch, he skidded past Niklas toward Sarah, bowling her over before coming to a stop inside the cabin.
“Risto,” Niklas shouted.
Sarah quickly righted herself to a sitting position.
The dog scurried over to Sarah, his eyes darting between her and Niklas, tail between his legs. Giving Sarah a ‘sorry’ lick on the cheek, he sat. With a whine, he pawed the air.
Niklas stifled his laugh, remembering his Santa voice before he spoke. “I’m sorry. I guess my retriever misjudged the icy porch.” He held out a hand and pulled Sarah to her feet.
“It’s all right, Nick. No damage done.” She gestured toward the door. “Please, come inside.”
Pushing the Santa spectacles up his nose, Niklas patted the beard. All still in place. He stepped inside. Mila had already made herself comfortable on the rug.
“Thank you, Miss No. I hope you don’t mind that my dogs are with me. With Mila heavily pregnant, I need her beside me all the time. She could go into labor any day now, so I take her along to work.” He chuckled. “Which you already know.”
“Of course I don’t mind. And please, call me Sarah. Sarah Jones from South Africa.”
“Sarah. A beautiful name. Princess, isn’t it?”
A smile played on her lips. “Do you know the meaning of everyone in the world’s names?”
Only those I can’t get out of my mind. Niklas buried the thought and answered in the only manner Santa could. “Most.” Then he changed the subject lest she quiz him.
“The sleigh ride was cold tonight. Something warm will go down well. Is that hot chocolate ready?”
“Coming right up.” She turned and disappeared into the kitchen.
Niklas followed, stopping in the doorway. He glanced at the small Christmas decoration dangling before his eyes, thankful the overgrown fake beard hid his smile. He knew a popular Christmas song he’d love to make come true right now, though he’d have to substitute the word ‘Mamma’ for ‘Sarah’. Instead he turned and walked to the couch before Sarah noticed he’d seen the mistletoe. Must remember it’s there, though.
“How did your writing go today?” He sank into the soft cushions and stared at the ashy fireplace. He’d take his time cleaning that out and preparing a new fire when he returned later. Thanks to the wall-mounted heaters, the cabin was warm, but it lacked the cozy ambiance created by a crackling fire.
Sarah’s reply drifted from the kitchen. “Great, actually. I only had a few hours this afternoon, but still I managed to do some character sketches and bang out three thousand words. If I keep going at this pace, I’ll have this novel completed before I go home. Mission accomplished.” Her voice bubbled with an excitement he hadn’t heard yesterday.
Resting an elbow on his thigh, Niklas leaned forward, wishing he’d sat at the table where he could still see Sarah. Hopefully she’d sit beside him on the couch once the hot chocolate was made. “You said you have some questions?”
“Just a few. How many sugars?” A laugh slipped through from the kitchen. “That’s not one of my questions.”
“No sugar. Everyone says I’m sweet enough.”
“Of course you are.” Another laugh. Already he loved the sound.
Niklas pulled the beard away and blew cool air down his chin. Clad in all his snow gear beneath the Santa suit, he’d rather be Alexis hiding outside in the sleigh at this moment. Actually, no. He wouldn’t want to trade places with his friend—not for anything. To spend time with Sarah, he’d gladly take the heat. Twenty minutes of discomfort. He could do that.
Sarah strolled out of the kitchen carrying two mugs. The beard snapped back against his skin. She looked good in her black leggings and white off-the-shoulder T-shirt, ‘I love Cape Town’ printed on the front. In bold. Her long, dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, almost touching the red heart-shaped depiction of the word love that drew his attention.
“You live in Cape Town?”
“I sure do.” She smiled and motioned toward her shirt with one cup. “And as you can see, I love it.”
I think I love Cape Town, too.
Sarah handed Niklas his hot chocolate and eased into the opposite side of the couch, pulling her feet up onto the edge of the cushion. Hugging her knees, she sipped her drink and eyed Niklas over the ceramic rim. “Do you have children, Nick?”
With a chuckle, he shook his head. “No. No. I don’t have children.” He took a swig, wondering how he’d manage to not soil the beard. Not a wise decision to request hot chocolate instead of water.
“But you do love children?”
&nbs
p; “Absolutely.”
“Do you want children of your own one day?”
“I would like a dozen of them, but as you can see, I’m getting too old for that.”
She stared into his eyes then lowered her gaze to his hands. “You’re only as old as you feel, Nick.”
For a while she sipped her drink in silence, a distant look on her face. “I love children,” she finally said, shifting her gaze to him. “One day I hope I’ll have a few running around my house, too.” A smile broke across her solemn features. “A husband to go with them, as well.”
“You’re not married?”
“I— No.”
“A beautiful woman such as yourself? Surely you have lots of men trying to win your affections?”
“Are you married, Nick?” She had ignored his question but couldn’t hide the blush that tinged her cheeks.
Niklas shook his head, the long beard ruffling with the action.
She gave a half-smile. “No Mary Christmas?”
“Ha-ha-ha. You’re very funny, Sarah Jones.”
Her smile widened. “Am I? How about I get more serious then? You said you could share the secret of Christmas with me. I’d love to know what that is. Is it to be found here in Lapland?”
Lord, are you opening a door? “The secret can be found anywhere, Sarah. It didn’t originate in Lapland. All of this—” He gestured to his clothing, his beard. “This is not what Christmas is about. The real secret of Christmas, or rather the answer, happened two thousand years ago with an angel, a virgin, and a tiny baby boy in a manger.”
Sarah breathed in deep, closing her eyes as she exhaled. Had he offended her? Without a word, she emptied her mug and placed it on the floor before leaning back into the cushions. Another sigh. “I guess Jonathan was right, I should’ve gone to Bethlehem.”
“Jonathan?”
Poles Apart Page 6