Photos and text appeared and he glanced at the bar that was still loading, surprised by the amount of content. The first photo was one you could see in holiday advertisement. Elves sat around long workbenches making toys. They looked similar to what he'd seen on TV over the years, although he had to admit some of the female elves were pretty attractive. Another photo showed some of the female elves posing for the camera and his eyes bugged out. These elves were quite well endowed. He never noticed that in the cartoons when he was a kid.
The next photo showed Mrs. Santa Claus in the kitchen baking gingerbread men. He shuddered and was just about to click to the next one when he noticed the woman in the scene. It was Chrissy! His Chrissy!
He frantically tried to zoom in, but the web site wouldn't allow him to look any closer. Frustrated, he clicked through picture after picture on the site. Another picture showed the outside of what apparently was Santa's factory and there on the sign was the name, “Claus Toys, a division of Christmas Town, Inc.” He stared at it. Obviously Chrissy's family company was completely devoted to making children believe there really was such a place and that Santa was completely real.
He read the text anxious to learn everything he could about this strange role-playing company. “Santa's five children.” There was another picture and there was Chrissy in the middle of her brother and sisters. The description named them as Holly, Krista, and twins Joy and Noel. The son sat astride the most spectacular motorcycle he'd ever seen. Obviously, this weird family had some serious money.
How had he missed this web site earlier? He must have Googled five times over the past two days looking for anything and now today there it was at the very top of the Search Engine list. Something was not right about that. He rubbed his hands over his eyes. Jetlag had set in with a vengeance. Leaving the laptop open to the photo of Chrissy and her siblings, he set it on the coffee table. After finishing off his beer he headed to his bedroom.
Lying in the dark, it was no surprise that all he could see was Chrissy. He missed her laughter, her smile when he showed her his island, her tenderness as they made love. He wasn't sure which hurt more the ache in his heart or the ache lower. Flopping over he tried to block his mind from the thought that he might never see her again. He still planned to go to North Pole in New York right after Christmas, but in his heart he knew she wasn't going to be there. She was somewhere else and he had a feeling it was somewhere he could never hope to find on his own.
It was so hot in here. Why was his furnace up so high? He could have sworn when he came home he hadn't turned it up. He shoved at the blankets with his feet. He'd have to get up and turn the thermostat down; he couldn't sleep like this. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and dropped his head into his hands. He was so tired. What the heck time was it? He opened his eyes to look at the bedside clock.
"What the hell...” he blinked and looked around. He was no longer in his bedroom, but the room looked familiar. He knew he'd never been here before, and yet he knew where everything was. The bed was an enormous four-poster monstrosity that took up half of what could only be called a suite of a room. At one end, a small couch and comfortable chair made up a small sitting area in front of a fireplace. Turning towards the sound of water hitting the shore, his eyes widened at the sight of the floor to ceiling curtains. He stood up and slowly crossed the room, half afraid, half knowing exactly what he would see outside the large picture window
"Oh God, oh my God.” His knees buckled as he yanked the sheer fabric back and saw the view of the Sea. The windows opened with a push and he stuck his head out. “What the hell is going on?” The view out the window was the view he had shown Chrissy last week. He'd stood here and told her, “This is where the bedroom window will be and when I wake up this will be the view out my window."
He turned back to the room, walked across the floor and out the bedroom door. In the large hallway he looked down, once again knowing what he'd see. He was in his house. His dream house on his island. The house that hadn't been built yet. Obviously, he was dreaming. He'd dreamed of being hot and he dreamed of getting out of bed, and he was dreaming up this whole thing. Jetlag had made him a bit crazy that's all.
If he really were dreaming, then Chrissy would be there too. Maybe in the kitchen. He sprinted through the house. What a dumb dream. She should have been next to him in bed and he could be having a really good dream right now. Still, she had to be here somewhere.
As eager as he was to get to Chrissy, he couldn't help admire how beautifully the house was designed. The whole back wall gave a view of the sea that couldn't be measured; it was even landscaped perfectly.
"Chrissy,” he called out. “Chrissy!” Anxious to see her, if only in his dreams, he raced through the door to the kitchen and stopped cold. She wasn't there, but the stainless steel appliances, the tiled floor and the granite counter tops were everything he ever could have dreamed. It was spectacular.
But no Chrissy. He frowned. What kind of dream was this if he didn't get to see her? He slid open the glass doors that led to the outside patio. In his flannel pajama bottoms he was immediately overheated. The sun was brutal and the sand under his feet was hot. It all felt so real.
Maybe Chrissy was here, lying on their private beach in that tiny little bikini he loved so much. He ran down the path and around the winding curve as if he'd done it a hundred times before, and he had, only on paper. He knew where each plant was and where the beach shack would be. He scanned the white sand, but found no sign of the woman he loved. The beach furniture he'd placed on his drawing was there, but not the beautiful woman he imagined lounging on it.
Dejected, he sank to the sand and dropped his head into his hands. This had to mean something. Did it mean that he needed to forget about his dream of having her here with him on his island? Or was his dream trying to tell him how empty his life would be even if he had all this but not her? He swallowed hard. When was he going to wake up? Then again, maybe he didn't want to wake up. If he couldn't have Chrissy in real life, maybe he could stay here in this dream.
No, he had to wake up. He had to get back to his mission of finding her. And he would find her. Tomorrow morning he'd Mapquest that silly little town and go there. If she wasn't there, he'd keep looking. If she didn't want him to find her, she'd have to tell him to his face. He wasn't willing to let her disappear from his life a second time.
He stood up and walked back along the path to the winding front porch. On the side of the stoop he saw a small plaque and leaned forward to read it. Claus Construction—erected December 24. The year was now and he frowned. “I can't even dream realistically.” It was as if the house was just built today. Things were getting weirder and weirder.
"Maybe I'll just go back to bed and close my eyes. Maybe I can't wake up because I'm not in bed.” With one more look around at his house, he climbed the stairs and crawled back into bed.
Chapter Eight
"Daddy, please don't do this.” Chrissy added her pleas to her sisters’ and mother's as Santa continued to don the famous suit. It had taken him an inordinately long time, as he had to stop and sit down when his coughing spells worsened. He had a fever, he was weak, but he still insisted on going. Chrissy glanced at her sister Holly, who picked at her fingernails.
"You're going to freeze in that outfit,” she said, scanning the scantily clad elf.
Holly glanced down. “We don't feel the same cold you do, remember? Besides, I'm cute."
Chrissy rolled her eyes. “Yeah, if you're working an adult holiday party. I hope you don't run into any sleepy fifteen year old boys in that suit."
Holly shrugged. “I just might make some older boys dreams come true."
Santa began to cough again and both sisters turned to their father again. “I want all of you out, I need to talk to Chrissy,” he demanded.
"Oh but Papa, you need to get ready. We need to leave in under an hour."
"Holly, don't lecture me, I know my schedule. Now go, I need to talk to you
r sister."
Chrissy turned to her sister and mother. “I'll get him ready. I promise. Maybe put together some more hot chocolate and pack up those cookies for the trip."
Her mother touched her shoulder as she walked by with Holly. Chrissy turned to her father. He sat in his overstuffed chair catching his breath.
"Come here,” he called and patted the footstool in front of him. “We haven't talked yet about your Christmas wish and here it is time for me to go."
"Its ok Papa, we can talk about it later."
"Nonsense, you know I'll have a late night and I'm afraid this time I'll have to freeze time as long as possible. I have a feeling it's going to be a slow go."
"I wish you'd let Noel do this and Holly..."
"They're not ready, you know that."
"They're about 300 years old, when do you think they'll be ready?” Chrissy smiled to soften her arguing.
"I'll know when they're ready, but back to you. What is it your heart desires this year, my precious child?"
Santa's large hand reached out to cup her cheek, and she tried to hide her thoughts from him but she knew it was no use. Her father could see them whenever he wanted and he saw them now. “Ahh, Nick Christopolous. Is that who you wish for?"
Chrissy thought of Nick and their times together but quickly switched her thoughts, not wanting her father to see all her memories. “It's not him, Papa, or rather it's for him. Nick hates Christmas. He's lost the holiday spirit and thinks it's a huge waste of time."
Santa chuckled. “Yes I've heard something along those lines about him. You know my policy on that."
She nodded. “I know, once they don't believe in you anymore, you cross them off the list, but I think Nick has a good heart. I know he does. He has this thing about people lying to him, and he felt as if you were a big story his parents made up."
"Most adults do. It takes a very special adult to still believe in Santa Claus."
Chrissy's eyes filled with tears thinking of all the years Nick hadn't received gifts from Santa. No special packages dropped down his chimney, no candy canes in his stocking, no gingerbread. “I was hoping, I guess, maybe if you could somehow make him believe again."
"Sweetheart, you know that I can't do that. I can't make someone believe in me."
She knew that. Even as sadness settled around her heart she knew that it was the only small chance she had of a future with Nick. If he believed in Santa once more, she might be able to help him believe that she was Santa's daughter. It had been a foolish wish.
"There has to be something else I can get you this year, some other wish that's within my power."
Chrissy shrugged. “I suppose peace on earth would be nice."
Santa began to cough again and his chest heaved. Chrissy's eyes flew to her father's. “I know what I want. I want you not to go tonight. Please Daddy, I couldn't bear it if something happened to you. Think of the children. What would life be like with no Santa?"
She threw herself into his arms and he held her against him. She could hear the wheezing in his chest. His large hand stroked her hair and patted her back before he pushed her away. “Don't you fret about that. I'm going to be fine. It is only twenty-four hours. I'll come back and I promise I'll go to bed for a week if that's what it takes.” As she started to say something more he set her away and stood up. “I promise you, little girl, I'll be back and I'll take care of myself. Now I'm counting on you to help your mother here tonight and tomorrow."
Chrissy sank to the footstool once more and bowed her head. There was nothing she could do. Her father was going out sick. He couldn't give Nick the Christmas spirit and if Nick had no Christmas spirit, well it wasn't too far fetched a notion to recognize that he couldn't believe in Santa's daughter if he didn't believe in Santa. Obviously she couldn't think about a relationship with someone like that. She needed a believer. Maybe next year she'd ask her father to help her find a nice elf. She stood up and walked slowly out of the room. Elves were nice. Some of them. She could make a good life with an elf man. Besides, her sisters had whispered to her about how good elves were in bed. Something about magical powers that mortals could never hope to achieve.
She brushed the tears away. She didn't want an elf, she wanted Nick. Nope she didn't want an elf; she wanted a scrooge. A Greek non-believing scrooge! With a soft cry she ran to her room, not ready to face her family until she'd gotten herself under control.
* * * *
"Open your eyes, Scrooge!"
Nick's eyes flew open. He was still in this weird dream. But now he had company.
"Christopolous! Over here."
Fingers snapped and Nick sat up. His eyes widened, and he knew a moment of fear when he saw the very odd looking character across the room.
He was dressed all in black leather. He had white-blonde hair and a nasty scowl on his face. In his hands he held a very large scroll like you'd see in an old movie.
"Who are you?'” Nick asked.
"It doesn't matter who I am, what matters is why I'm here.” He moved across the room. “You need to get up and get dressed."
"Why?” Nick asked, but found himself climbing out of bed. He forgot how high off the ground the bed was and he landed in a heap on the floor.
The weird character rolled his eyes. “Oh boy, my sisters sure know how to pick ‘em."
"Your sister? Do I know her?"
The elf scowled deeper. “Yeah, you sure do. In more ways than one too, from what I could see."
Nick spied a pair of khaki pants and a shirt lying on the settee at the end of the bed and he picked them up. The weird looking character turned to face the window. “How do you like the house?"
Nick pulled the pants on and tucked in the shirt. “Considering I designed it, I love it."
The weird man tuned back around. “You designed it, but you didn't build it."
Nick yanked a polo shirt on and studied him. “Who did you say your sister was?"
"I didn't."
"Do you know why I'm having this dream?"
The blond guy looked at him again, this time with one eyebrow raised. “You think you're dreaming this? HAH! You are quite the sap, but hey, if this is what Chrissy wants."
Nick's eyes widened, and he fumbled as he slipped his shoes into the loafers sitting by the edge of the bed. “Chrissy? You know Chrissy?"
The elf rolled his eyes again. “Yeah, she's one of my sisters. and I'm not real keen on what you were doing with her in Greece, but we won't go there right now."
"So you're Noel?"
"Noll, it's pronounced Noll. Let's go, we're late."
"Go? Where are we going?"
"To the big house, moron. Come on, it's the twenty-fourth and I'm buried up to my icicles in stuff to do."
Nick followed Chrissy's brother down the stairs and out the front door. There on the driveway sat a big Harley. Remembering the web site, he realized that his subconscious mind must have conjured up the motorcycle. This was some kind of dream.
"It's not a dream, quit saying that. The one on the website was my Ducati. My wife gave me her late husband's Harley for a wedding present. She hadn't been able to bring herself to sell it after he died. When she found out I sold my Ducati to help her with some financial problems, she gave me the Harley."
"I didn't say anything."
"You're thinking it. It's not a dream; this is reality, buddy. Unfortunately."
Noel climbed onto the bike and tossed a helmet to Nick. “Put that on and hang on."
Nick strapped on the helmet and climbed on the back of the bike. “There's no way off this island except by boat."
Noel gave a snort and kick-started the bike. The Harley roared to life and headed down the path that ran along the beach. Nick hesitated a moment and feeling incredibly uncomfortable placed his hands on the back of the leather jacket, not wanting to wrap his arms around the other man. The bike went faster and faster. They were headed straight for the water.
"It's a dream, it's a dream,” he
muttered to himself. Maybe the bike would turn into some type of Jet Ski or something. It wasn't his concern, he wasn't running this dream, Noel was.
As the bike's tires hit the water, Nick suddenly felt weightless. Looking around, he realized they were flying in the air. “Holy Shit!” Not caring about how it looked, he wrapped his arms around the other man's waist and hung on tight. “What the hell are you doing?"
"Just shut up and ride, Scrooge."
It could have been seconds or hours. Nick had no idea how much time passed by before the bike was on solid ground again. All around him, the scenery was white. Everything was covered in snow and ice but strangely enough he was completely comfortable without a coat until Noel jerked his arms from around his waist and he all but fell off the bike. “Hey man, I said hang on, not climb up the back of me."
"Sorry, I've never, uh flown on a motorcycle before."
Noel let his breath out in a disgusted sigh and jerked the helmet from him. “Come on, this way."
Nick shivered. “It's freezing up here."
The blond man glanced at him in disgust. “It is the North Pole."
"Th-the-the North Pole?"
But Noel kept on walking until they reached the front doors of the castle. They opened without him touching them and a rush of warmth greeted Nick as he stepped inside. It was eerily quiet.
"Everyone's out at the barn getting the sleigh ready.” Noel snapped his fingers and two very cute elves appeared. “Take him to the guest wing and keep him there until we call for him.” He pointed his finger at them. “Do not do anything, got it?"
The two elves glanced at him and giggled. Nick couldn't help but notice that just like on the web site these elves were very well proportioned.
"And you, Scrooge, keep your thoughts pure. You're in Santa's castle now."
Then he turned on his heel and headed down the hall. His black leather books thumping purposely until he was out of view. Was Chrissy here? Nick looked around amazed at the sheer magnitude of the foyer. The ceiling had to be ... he couldn't even judge how high up it was. The two elves motioned for him to follow and climbed the stairs that seemed to go on forever. Finally, at the top they walked down a very long hallway and unlocked the door at the end. They giggled once more and motioned him to enter.
Tales From Christmas Town Page 12