The Christmas Wishing Tree: An Eternity Springs Novel

by Emily March

  “How did you know it was me? Magic?”

  Or caller ID. “Something like that. Why are you calling today, buddy?”

  “I wanted to tell you about a show. It’s on TV and you need to watch it, Santa. I watched it last night even though it was after my bedtime because Stephanie lets me stay up later than Mrs. White.”

  “Who is Stephanie?”

  “The Stephanie who lives next door. She stays with me sometimes when Mom has to go to work and Mrs. White can’t sit. She’s in high school and she talks on the phone to her boyfriend a lot. My mom had to go to work again last night even though she wasn’t supposed to. Anyway, the show is so cool. It’s all about Yellowstone. Did you know that underneath Yellowstone is a volcano? You probably know that because you gave me the book, but Mom just reads me one chapter a night so we haven’t gotten to that part yet. So I learned it from the show. It’s on the National Geographic channel. You should watch it, Santa.”

  They talked about volcanoes while Devin finished grocery shopping and checked out. When he loaded his Jeep, the conversation moved to camping. He’d just pulled to a stop in his parents’ driveway when the topic of Reilly’s new bike came up.

  “Mom is going to take me and my friend Dustin to the church parking lot so we can ride our bikes where it’s safe. I’m almost ready to take off the training wheels, Santa.”

  “That’s great.”

  “And after we ride bikes, Mom is going to make us chocolate chip cookies!”

  “She is?” Devin seized the moment. “You know, my elves have a secret ingredient that makes chocolate chip cookies taste magical. Would you like your mom to add it to her cookies?”

  “That’d be great, Santa!”

  “Okay. Put her on the phone, and I’ll tell her what the ingredient is.”

  On the other end of the line, Reilly went silent. After a long pause, he said, “If I do that, she’ll make me stop calling you.”

  “Your mom doesn’t know about these calls?”

  “No.”

  Devin grimaced. He’d been afraid of that. “That’s not good, buddy. You can’t hide things from your mom.”

  “I know.” Reilly’s voice held a world of misery. “Because of the bad guy.”

  Devin’s brow furrowed. Had he heard wrong? “Did you say ‘bad guy’?”

  The boy’s voice went small. “I’m not supposed to know, but I do. She got a whole new phone because of him. He’s playing mean jokes that scare her, but the policemen can’t find him. They don’t know who he is.”

  With that, Devin knew that the phone calls to Santa had to change. “Reilly, I like talking to you, but we can’t—”

  “I gotta go, Santa. It’s time to ride my bike. Goodbye! I’m still believing!”

  Devin stared down at the phone. Crap. What the hell had he gotten mixed up in? He didn’t regret playing Santa for Reilly and he didn’t want to spoil the boy’s fantasy, but this had taken a strange turn. It couldn’t continue.

  A bad guy who played mean jokes?

  Devin needed to get ahold of Reilly’s mother. She wouldn’t answer his calls, but maybe she’d respond to a text. He considered the problem as he unloaded the groceries. What to say without writing a novel? ‘Lady, your kid is in trouble. Call me.’ He didn’t want to scare her, but if that’s what it took. . . . Devin placed the last grocery sack on the kitchen counter and said, “Mom, if you don’t need me for anything else, I think I’ll walk over to the store. Dad said he has a new line of fishing tackle he wants me to check out.”

  “I’m done with you, thanks,” Sarah replied. “Remind Cam that there’s a high school basketball game this afternoon. He’s promised to take Michael.”

  “Will do.”

  The scent of wood smoke drifted on the air along with the sound of laughter from children taking advantage of the sunny afternoon to play touch football in Davenport Park. As Devin walked up Spruce Street, he found himself wondering what the weather was like in Nashville. Probably pretty good since Reilly said he was going bike riding.

  Reilly. This whole situation plagued Devin. As much as he hated the idea of letting the boy down, he really couldn’t answer Reilly’s calls again until he’d talked to the boy’s mother. With that decision made and a short, but hopefully compelling, text message composed, he reached into his jacket for his phone. When he pulled out the burner phone instead, he hit redial one more time. He almost dropped the phone when on the second ring a female voice demanded, “Who is this!”

  Devin opened his mouth to give his name, but the woman didn’t give him a chance to speak. “Who are you? Why are you doing these things? What have I ever done to you? I swear, if I find out you’re a pervert whose been preying on my child in any way, I will hunt you down and carve you up like a coroner.”

  “Whoa,” Devin muttered.

  “I don’t know what your motive is, mister, but when you decided to drag my son into this twisted little game of yours you went too far.”

  “Hold on lady,” Devin fired back. He crossed the street and aimed for the relative privacy of a park bench, temper revealing his Aussie roots as he continued, “If you’ll quit your whinging for just one minute I’ll tell you what you need to know.”

  “Quit my what?”

  “Whinging! Bitching. For a woman who can’t take time to be a proper mother to her kid, you sure are quick to throw around accusations.”

  The woman on the other end of the call gasped in outrage.

  Devin was full of outrage himself. “I assume you’re Reilly’s mother. Well, if you will hold your tongue for one bloody minute, I will tell you about my motive. Your boy called me. On Christmas Eve. He believed he was phoning Santa Claus, and he had something he wanted to add to his Christmas list.”

  “And you talked to him?”

  “It was Christmas Eve! He told me he’s six! I wasn’t going to ruin his Christmas by telling him he had the wrong number. So yes, I played along and I let him think I was Santa. And the minute we were done, I did what any responsible person would do. I tried to call you! Only you were too busy flossing your teeth to answer the damn phone!”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Yeah, well, I’ve been doing that for days and now I’m done with excuses. Why don’t you answer your phone, lady? Do you know how lonely your little boy is? Care to guess what his Christmas wish was? A daddy. The boy wished for a dad.”

  The sudden silence on the other end of the line indicated that Devin might have gotten through to her. He was tempted to keep talking, to roll out some of the truths he’d been chewing on for days, but he forced himself to wait for her response.

  Finally, she cleared her throat. “Mr., um . . .”

  After her threats, Devin wasn’t all that anxious to give her his name. “Why don’t we stick to Claus?”

  When she spoke again, her voice was tight. “It appears I am missing some important information. I would very much appreciate it if you would explain from the beginning.”

  “I’ll be happy to do so.” If his voice had a note of moral superiority to it, well, she had it coming.

  Devin started with the Christmas Eve phone call and detailed the conversation as best as he could remember. Reilly’s mother let out a little groan of misery when he repeated Reilly’s daddy wish. She murmured a pained moan when Devin brought up the boy’s complaints about her work hours. He told her that he’d asked Reilly to put her on the on phone. “He wouldn’t do it. He said you’d make him stop calling me.”

  “Well, of course I’d make him stop calling,” she fired back. “This is just unacceptable. Sneaking my phone out of my purse, calling strangers, and lying about it—I can’t believe he’d do this.”

  “Well, technically, I’m not a stranger. I’m Santa. And you are . . . ?”

  “What?”

  “Your name. Reilly only calls you Mom. I imagine I could track you down, but I haven’t gone snooping. I’d like to know your name.”

  There was a long pause. “I don’
t know what to do about this. You could be the guy.”

  “The one who the police can’t find?”

  She gasped. “It is you. Who are you? Why are you doing this to us? How did you get this number?”

  Devin’s eyes rounded upon hearing the fear in her voice. “Whoa. Hold on. Wait a minute. I don’t know what game you’re talking about. All I’ve done is answer the phone when your kid calls and try to get hold of you to tell you about it. I’m not the bad guy here. Reilly told me some lady dressed like an angel in a department store gave him this number. It’s North-Pole-One.”

  “How do you know about the pranks?”

  “I don’t. Not really.” He told her about Reilly’s mention of the bad guy. “That’s when I knew I had to keep trying until I connected with you. I don’t know what sort of trouble you are in, but I’m invested in Reilly at this point. I don’t want to rip the Santa rug out from under him. However, I need some guidance. I need information. First of all”—Devin closed his eyes, braced himself—“is he sick?”

  “Six. He’s six years old.”

  “That’s not . . . I said ‘sick.’ Is he sick? He told me he saw Santa at a hospital party for sick kids.”

  “Oh.” Reilly’s Mom sighed heavily into the phone. “No. No. He’s fine. I’m a . . . volunteer.”

  “Thank God.” Devin’s breath fogged on the winter air as he lifted his face to the sky and blew a heavy sigh of relief. “I’m so glad to hear that.”

  For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Motion in the fir tree above him caught Devin’s notice, and he watched a pair of squirrels scamper from limb to limb. In a quiet voice, Devin’s mother said, “Your number really is North-Pole-One, isn’t it?”

  “I wasn’t lying.”

  “Do you get a lot of these types of calls?”

  “Actually, Reilly is the only one. It’s a new number for me.”

  “Ah. I see. Me too. A new number, I mean. I had to change mine. I’m being harassed, and it started with phone calls. That’s why I didn’t answer on Christmas Eve. I didn’t recognize the number. And a couple of weeks ago someone sent more than a dozen pizzas to our house.”

  “Oh. I see.” Devin did see. Asshat.

  “The police call it doxxing. It was a new word for me— the modern word for pranks—and I don’t think this guy is necessarily dangerous, but his pranks could be. He slashed my tires and that has a sinister feel.”

  “That’s more than harassment. That’s criminal behavior.”

  “And in the midst of all this I’m standing here talking on the phone to a total stranger.”

  “I repeat. I’m not a stranger. I’m Santa.”

  “Well, Santa,” she said with a laugh that had a hint of despair in it. “What am I going to do about this hotline of yours?”

  “We need a game plan. I’m happy to keep talking to the little guy, but I’m afraid we have a bit of a ticking clock to deal with. I’m scheduled to leave the country next week. I won’t be able to talk to him after New Year’s Day.”

  “Oh. Well . . . I need to put a little thought into this. And . . . oh dear . . . Reilly just fell and skinned his knee. Can I call you back later? After Reilly goes to bed?”

  Devin had plans to watch tonight’s college football bowl game with some friends from high school. He wasn’t really interested in the matchup. “Sure.”

  “It’ll probably be around nine. We’re central time. Goodbye.” Before the call disconnected, he heard her say, “Oh, honey.”

  Oh, honey. She’d sounded just like Mom when Michael hurt himself. Lots of love in those two words.

  A mother’s love. He closed his eyes as an old pain wrenched his heart.

  Breast cancer had taken his biological mother when he wasn’t much older than Michael. If not for Cam Murphy . . .

  Then Devin gave his head a shake, drummed his fingers against the park bench, and brought his thoughts back to the phone call. This situation had taken an unexpected turn. The tire-slasher thing worried him. He’d have to quiz her about it when she called tonight. Sounds like Reilly’s Mom wasn’t the neglectful mother after all, but a woman with a lot on her plate.

  He hoped she actually called. He liked the sound of her voice.

  Bet she’s a redhead.

  Four

  “Hey, Santa.”

  “Good afternoon, Reilly, my man.”

  “Guess what? I told Mom about calling you, and she wasn’t too mad. I’m only in a little trouble.”

  “That’s good.”

  “You were right. I needed to believe. So guess what we’re going to do tomorrow? We are going to a big cave! It’s huge and we get to go inside it. It’s a national park like Yellowstone only there’s no volcanoes. It’s called Mammoth Cave National Park. Did you know that there used to be big elephants called mammoths, but they all died? I don’t know if they lived in the cave or not. Mom says we’ll learn about it on our tour.”

  “You’ll enjoy that.”

  “Hi, Santa.”

  “How’s my spelunker?”

  “I know what that is! I learned it today at Mammoth Cave National Park. It’s the funniest word.”

  “So tell me all about your visit.”

  “You’re not too busy? It will take me a long time.”

  “I’m not too busy for you, little man. So tell me, why is it called Mammoth Cave National Park?”

  “Hi, Santa. Guess what? I told my mom what you said about the Great Barrier Reef, and we went to the bookstore today and got two books about it!”

  “You’re going to love those books.”

  “And you know what else? I’m going to have a big brother! Not a real big brother who you have to share a bedroom with like my friend Jason. This big brother will take me places and do guy things.”

  “Guy things are the best.”

  “I don’t think having a big brother will be as good as having a dad, though. I’m still going to keep wishing for that. I told Mom.”

  “You keep talking to your mom, Reilly. You have a really great mom and it’s important that she knows what you’re thinking.”

  “I will. I wish I could keep talking to you too, though. I hate that we only have one more call. Mom says it’s not a real vacation if you have to take your phone with you. But Santa, I’m worried about something. What will you do if you have a ’mergency and you can’t call nine-one-one?”

  “Oh, you don’t need to worry about that, Reilly. My elves take excellent care of me.”

  “Like my mom does me.”

  “Like your mom does you.”

  “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Santa. Happy New Year.”

  “Happy New Year, Reilly from Nashville.”

  At twenty minutes after eight on New Year’s Eve, Jenna finished reading a chapter about Big Bend National Park and kissed Reilly good night. When she checked on him fifteen minutes later, he was sound asleep. She went downstairs, brushed her hair, and rummaged through her makeup drawer for her lipstick.

  “You’re an idiot,” she murmured at her reflection in the mirror. This wasn’t a FaceTime call. He couldn’t see her. She could call him with her hair in a rat’s nest and with mascara running down her face and spinach stuck between her teeth and he wouldn’t know. Nevertheless, she reapplied her lipstick before walking into her kitchen and pouring herself a glass of wine. At quarter to nine, she dialed North-Pole-One for the fourth time.

  He answered on the second ring and she could hear the grin in his voice when he said, “Happy New Year, Reilly’s Mom.”

  “Happy New Year, Santa.”

  By an unspoken agreement, they’d never breeched the anonymity of their contact by exchanging names. When Jenna phoned him that first night, she’d been filled with suspicion and skepticism as he repeated his explanation of events. Her focus had been on Reilly and his safety, and she’d shared nothing about herself.

  In the end, she’d believed “Santa’s” story. They’d developed and agreed upon a strategy for going forward. Only af
ter they’d ended the call had she realized that he had never shared his real identity. During the subsequent calls, she’d learned that he was visiting family in the Colorado Rockies for the holidays, that he was single and in his late twenties, and that he loved Star Trek and Lord of the Rings and Game of Thrones. He’d never shared his name, where he made his home, or what he did for a living.

  He did have the most delicious accent, and she’d spent a ridiculous amount of time analyzing it, finally setting on a Hugh Jackman Aussie sprinkled with an occasional Bob Marley Caribbean flare. If he occupied a lot of real estate in her imagination at the moment, well, that was understandable, wasn’t it? He was a mystery who, unlike the doxxer, wasn’t threatening or frightening. He’d inserted a little sparkle into her holidays, and she’d decided to enjoy the experience.

  “So what are you and the little caveman doing tonight?” he asked.

  “We have an exciting night planned. Reilly is already asleep. I’m going to binge watch The Carol Burnett Show and maybe splurge and have two glasses of wine.”

  “You wild woman, you.”

  “Carol makes me laugh. I’ve decided I don’t have enough laughter in my life, and that’s something I’m going to work on during the coming year.”

  “So that’s your New Year’s resolution? To laugh more?”

  “I don’t do resolutions, but lately, I have been taking stock. This doxxing business has me rethinking a lot of things.”

  “Did you call that private investigator?”

  “Not yet.” Jenna propped her legs on an ottoman and stretched them toward the fire. “Santa” had a detective friend who’d recommended someone based in Nashville whom she could enlist for help in tracking down the jerk. “I thought I’d wait until next week. Things have been quiet this week. I think this guy must have taken the holidays off. Honestly, I needed the break from worrying about all that, but I will make the call early next week.”