Oklahoma Starshine

by Maggie Shayne

  “I don’t want to,” she replied. And maybe it was a little bit rude, but it was enough already.

  Everyone nodded. Kiley snatched a cookie off the plate and bit into it like she was ripping off its head.

  “So Emily, how do you know Joey?” Maya asked.

  If she wasn’t mistaken, Maya was the oldest. What she didn’t know was whether this was an attempt at small talk or the beginning of an interrogation.

  “My father worked for his father back in Texas,” she said. “We kind of grew up together.”

  “You have known him a long time,” Maya said.

  “All our lives.” Em shifted her gaze to the window again. The kids were already at the front of the line. Santa’s lap was vacated, and they all rushed forward. Joey said something, and they stopped, and then he crouched and picked up Tilda. He held her up high and spun her around as she giggled, and then lowered her right down onto Santa’s knee.

  Had she done a terrible thing, Emily wondered?

  No. He had. He’d tried to pay her to abort their child, that very child he was gazing at with tears welling in his eyes.

  “Littlest first,” Kara said, leaning across the table. “Tyler hates that rule, being the oldest of his generation.”

  “And Dahlia loves it, because her brother was born a few minutes before her,” Maya said.

  Kiley stuck out her tongue. “That rule needs to be abolished. Make ‘em play rock, paper, scissors or something.”

  “You were the firstborn twin, weren’t you Kiley?” Kara handed her another cookie. “Here. For your suffering.”

  “Thank you.”

  Emily looked back outside. Tilda was finished with Santa, and Joey was lifting her down. He set her on her feet beside him and reached for Dahlia, who shook her head, and went to climb onto Santa’s knee all by herself, thank-you-very-much.

  “They really are okay with him, you know,” Maya said.

  “The kids love him,” Kara said.

  “We love him, too,” Kiley added. And Emily thought there might be a hint of a threat under the words.

  Emily nodded, meeting their eyes, and then clasping her mug, she picked it up and slid out of the booth. “I’m gonna get some air. It’s a little close in here.” She headed for the door, pausing at the counter. “What do I owe?” she asked.

  “Joey took care of it.”

  “I’ll pay for my own. And for my little girl’s cookie, too. How much?”

  Frowning, the woman punched keys on the register.

  While Em was waiting for her change, Maya came up to her and spoke softly. “The envelope he gave you has my husband’s logo on it. Just so you know what to expect.”

  “What’s your husband do?” Emily asked.

  “He’s a lawyer.”

  Chapter Four

  As he watched his little girl—his little girl. He couldn’t get over it—whispering her wishes into Santa Claus’s ear, Joey’s chest felt so swollen, he thought it was liable to burst.

  “She’s so cute,” Tyler whispered, leaning up.

  He was growing up fast. Too fast. A rush of hot anger followed the thought, anger at being denied three whole years and seven months of Tilda’s life, time he could never get back.

  Then Tilda was looking his way, so he had to get her down. And he realized as he reached for her that his anger was gone. Just looking at her zapped it like lightning zapping a sinner, as his stepmother Vidalia would say.

  Tilda widened her eyes and shouted WAIT! like someone was about to get hit by a bus. “I almost forgot, Santa. You gotta get mommy somethin’ to make her happy. She’s very sad and I don’t know why.”

  Santa Claus sent Joey a look, and he could’ve sworn his eyes twinkled. Then he smiled, and slapped his opposite knee, and ho-ho-ho’d in a way that seemed entirely natural to him. “Don’t you worry, little Tilda. Santa’s on the job.”

  “I love you, Santa Claus,” she said, and leaned up to kiss him on his bearded cheek. Then she swung around and reached for Joey.

  He scooped her up and set her on her feet, then reached for Dahlia, who was almost five and didn’t want his help. She told Santa that she wanted a puppy, and everything else could be a surprise, because she loved surprises.

  Then it was Cal’s turn.

  Cal had a whole list of things to tell Santa. But most of all, he wanted a horse, not a pony, but a horse. It would be no problem at all, he explained fervently. It could live at his uncle Robby’s ranch, and he would personally go over there to take care of it before and after school. He was sure this would be okay with his uncle.

  Tyler lingered beside Joey for a beat longer than he needed to after he helped Cal down.

  An “elf” was handing out candy canes, distracting the kids, so he hunkered down to eye level with him. “What’s the matter, Ty?”

  The boy pressed the toe of one shoe into the ground. “I don’t know. Some of the kids in my class don’t believe any more, but…”

  “But…?”

  He shrugged.

  “Yeah, sometimes I have trouble with it, too,” Joey said. “But I figure either he’s for real, or he’s not. Now, if he’s not, and I believe he is, no harm done, right? But if he is, oh boy if he is, and I believe he’s not…I’m missing out.”

  Tyler looked at him with his mouth open. “Wow. I never thought’a that.”

  “See? I’m just saying. Might as well cover all your bases, you know?”

  He nodded hard. “I asked him for a mom when me and Dad first came out here. And then Dad married Kara. Right at Christmastime!” He blinked. “I got the puppy I asked for, too!”

  “Seems to me you just answered your own question. You don’t need to admit anything to the guys in school. The way I look at it, it’s between you and the big guy right there.”

  Tyler smiled, looked very much relieved and went right up to Santa. “Is it okay if I don’t sit on your lap?”

  “You can sit on my footstool, Tyler,” Santa Claus said, pulling it closer.

  Tyler sat down. Joey was gathering Dahlia and Cal and sweet little Tilda into a closer huddle, and unwrapped their candy canes for them.

  “You’re the same Santa from last year,” Tyler said.

  “I’m the same Santa from every year.”

  He was. Joey remembered him. His name was Nick and he was only seen around town in the winter. Kept to himself, had a cabin in the woods up behind the falls. His stints as the Big Falls Santa were the only socializing he seemed to do.

  “Can I pull your beard?” Tyler asked.

  “You asked me that last year,” Santa said. But he extended his chin. “Not too hard now.”

  Tyler tugged, then nodded. “I want my own cell phone and a gift card for more apps, and I want Death Squad Four for my PlayStation. I should say I want Mom and Dad to let me have Death Squad Four for my PlayStation. And a four wheeler.”

  “A four wheeler!” Santa gasped. “Oh, four wheelers are strictly parental requests, my boy. But I think I can help you out with the rest.”

  “Thanks. Santa.”

  “You’re welcome, Tyler. How’s the puppy? What’d you name him again? Red?”

  Tyler widened his eyes as he got down. Even Joey wondered how the old man knew such a personal detail. “He’s awesome,” Ty said. “He’s all grown up now. I think he’s the best dog ever.”

  Joe nodded, extremely satisfied with the way the visit had gone. “Thank you, Santa. Merry Christmas.”

  “You’re welcome, Joe.” Nick stretched out his hand to shake, and when Joey clasped it, he passed him a note.

  He frowned, but pocketed it to look at later. Probably a coupon from a toy store or something. Then he gathered all the children and headed back through the park. They stopped to look at the Christmas tree and listened to some carolers, and then he figured he should deliver them all back to their waiting mothers, though he really wasn’t ready to surrender Matilda.

  He looked down at her walking beside him, and she reached up her arm
s, so he scooped her right up and she giggled. And in spite of himself, he said, “Why do you think your mamma’s sad, Tilda?”

  “She cries sometimes.” She said it very seriously.

  He frowned, a little bit of guilt creeping over his conscience like a spreading black mold. “Did you ever ask her what’s wrong, when she’s crying?”

  “I just snuggle. Mommy loves snuggles.”

  Maybe he’d jumped the gun a little with his visit to Caleb. Maybe serving Emily with a court order wasn’t the best opening move.

  Maybe she’d come here because she was in some kind of trouble. Maybe he should have asked her.

  He returned to the diner. Emily was standing just outside the front door, under the green and white striped awning in front of the big front window with BIG FALLS DINER painted on it in country-style lettering, and fake snow sprayed strategically on the glass.

  Emily took Tilda from him, transferring her easily from his hip to her own and anchoring an arm around her. “Did you talk to Santa?” she asked. Her entire focus was on the little girl. She didn’t so much as spare Joey a glance.

  Tilda nodded. “He’s the real one, Mommy.”

  “What did you ask him for?”

  “That’s personal.”

  Joey laughed. Then he caught Emily’s hateful glare and flinched a little. She lowered one hand to her bag, took hold of the envelope he’d given her, and said, “You couldn’t even give it a day, could you?”

  He pressed his lips. “We should get together and talk,” he said. “After you read the papers, I mean.”

  “I was planning on it. You didn’t need to do this.”

  Then she turned and carried Tilda away from the diner, down the sidewalk to where the van was parked. She hit a button and the door slid opened. He stood there like an idiot, watching as she buckled the little girl into her car seat, then hit the button again and got behind the wheel.

  As the side door slid slowly closed, Tilda met his eyes, grinned big, and waved her little chubby hand at him. His heart melted. Her mother glared.

  Well, he might not have handled this whole thing in exactly the best way. But whatever he did, Emily had it coming. Keeping that little girl from him. It burned his insides every time he thought of it.

  He shoved his hands into his coat pockets and felt Nick’s note, pulled it out and gave it a read.

  For Tyler, Death Squad Four is releasing a version with parental controls on the 15th. It’s a digital download. You can pre-order. Tilda wants a baby that looks and feels like a real one, and a firetruck pedal car with a real siren. They don’t make one with a siren, so get busy. Also, don’t worry. It’s going to be okay. Merry Christmas.

  —Nick

  Emily backed her van up, turned and drove away. He watched her go, then heard the bell on the diner’s door jingle, and was immediately surrounded by women. Maya and Kara had their hands full, but they each gave him a hug, made their children thank him, and then they headed away. Kiley stood there, staring at him with two white paper bags in one hand and a foam mug in the other.

  She held up the two bags. “Take the one in front. It’s for you.”

  “Cookies? From Sunny’s place?” He took the bag then opened it up to peer inside to find his guess was right.

  “Walk me to the Jeep,” Kiley said.

  “Sure.” He reached for the coffee in her other hand, and she danced it out of reach. “Uh-uh. No way, this is mine.”

  He grinned. “Don’t bite my hand off.”

  She heaved a sigh. “So?”

  He looked at her. “What?”

  “Uh, hello? She looks just like you, Joey. Everybody saw it. That’s your little girl.” Then she blinked. “You do know that, right?”

  He paused a beat, then nodded. “Yeah, as of earlier today.”

  “Holy…really?” Then she frowned. “That bitch.”

  “Yeah, well…maybe she had a reason.”

  “What, she hasn’t told you why yet?”

  “I don’t think I really gave her the chance to.” He swallowed hard as they arrived at her little red Wrangler. She handed him her coffee, then opened the door and got in, setting her purse and bag of cookies on the passenger seat, buckling her seatbelt, all while he stood there.

  Then she took the cup back, took a sip, and set it into the cup holder. “You’re gonna have to tell the family. This isn’t gonna stay a secret very long.”

  “Maybe a day,” he said.

  “More like an hour.” A text tone came from her purse, and she glanced its way and held up one finger. “Four, three, two…” It chimed again. And then again. And then two more chimes came in quick succession. “Nope. Not even an hour. I’m gonna play dumb, Joey, but uh, you’re gonna need to talk to your family.”

  “I think I need to talk to Emily first.”

  “Might’ve been a good idea to do that before you served her with whatever those papers from Caleb’s office were.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Does Matilda know?” she asked. “That you’re her dad?”

  He shook his head slowly. “I want her to know.”

  She nodded again. “Talk to Emily, Joe.”

  “I will.”

  She closed the Jeep door. Joey looked back the way Emily had gone. She was angry. And he couldn’t really blame her.

  But he was angrier. She’d done far worse to him than serve him with legal papers. She’d stolen more than three years of his daughter’s life from him. He didn’t think that was something he would ever be able to forgive.

  #

  Emily and Matilda Louise stood holding hands and staring up at the town Christmas tree. “We should see it at nighttime,” Em said softly. She was trying real hard to put aside her anger at Joey. Those papers had been a court order, forbidding her from taking Tilda out of this godforsaken town until there was a hearing to determine his parental rights.

  She’d snapped pics of each page, emailed the whole thing to her lawyer in New Mexico, and told herself to put it out of her mind. It didn’t matter. He’d realize that, too, once she told him what she had to tell him this morning. “As pretty as the tree is now, it’ll be even prettier in the dark,” she told her little girl.

  “Why?” Tilda didn’t look her way. She was busy admiring the ornaments on the towering evergreen.

  “Because the lights show up better in the dark.”

  Tilda swung her head up, eyes wide. “Can we get a tree that big?”

  “Our house isn’t big enough for a tree that big, honey.”

  She pouted. Then blinked and said, “We need a bigger house.”

  “It would almost have to be a castle to fit a tree that big,” a woman said.

  She had been admiring the tree too from a nearby park bench, but now she was standing beside them, smiling down at Matilda with eyes that just about sparkled.

  She might’ve been forty, or she might’ve been fifty, or maybe even sixty. She had long wavy hair, mostly black but with strands of silver decorating it like holiday tinsel, a kind face, beautiful brown eyes.

  “You must be Emily. I’ve heard wonderful things about you,” she said, smiling, and then crouching lower and extending a hand, said, “And you must be Matilda. I’m so happy to meet you.”

  “Nice to meet you, too,” Matilda said giving the stranger a very grown up handshake.

  Emily’s alarm bells were going off. “And you are?”

  Rising, smiling, she said, “I’m Vidalia Brand McIntyre, Bobby Joe’s wife.” She smiled even bigger, refocusing on Tilda. “I’m Dahlia and Cal and Tyler’s grandma.”

  “Wow,” Tilda said. “I don’t have any grandmas.”

  The woman blinked so fast Emily knew there must be tears threatening. She expected something then, a hateful look or at least an accusing one, but none manifested. Instead, the woman looked at her with kindness, and said, “You two are so very welcome here. I’m just overjoyed that you came to Big Falls for Christmas. It’s like Santa brought my present early.�
�

  Em wasn’t sure how to react to that. “That’s…nice of you to say."

  “It’s sincere,” she said. “Anything you need, Emily, anything at all, you call me, you hear? You’re among family here. We’ve got your back.”

  “Morning, ladies.” Joey had come up behind them.

  Em turned quickly. A little jolt shot through her every time she saw him or heard his voice. It touched some nerve in her auditory canal and sparked like a rock striking flint.

  “Morning, Uncle Joey.” Tilda opened her arms.

  Joe dropped down on one knee and opened his, and she ran right into them. Emily’s heart cramped up, but she reminded herself that Tilda was at that age where anything was everything. A single M&M was ecstasy to her. A hug. A pretty Christmas tree in a town park. A grandma. A handsome man who paid her special attention.

  Her father.

  “Hello, Joey,” Vidalia said. “I’d like a word with you later.” It sounded vaguely threatening, and her eyes said he might be in trouble.

  Emily wondered why. Vidalia obviously knew he had a daughter, but he hadn't known himself, so she couldn’t be upset that he hadn’t told her. The court order, maybe? Her daughters knew about that. They’d probably told her. But it didn’t seem likely.

  “I have to run,” Vidalia went on, her face friendly and kind again. “It was such a treat meeting you, ladies. I hope we see a lot of each other while you’re in town.” Turning, she added, “Be sure she has my number, Joseph.”

  “I will.” Joe straightened up to his full height with Tilda in one arm.

  He either didn’t notice that Emily hadn’t yet spoken to him, or didn’t care.

  “I want a tree that big,” Tilda told him, pointing at the town tree. “But Dahlia’s gramma says we’d need a castle.”

  “Well one of these days, maybe you’ll live in a castle.”

  “Really?”

  “Anything is possible, Tilda. Especially when you’re still a kid.”

  She smiled, her face close to his, and poked his nose with her forefinger.

  “Big houses aren’t important, though, right Tilda?” Emily said.