Three Christmas Wishes

by Sheila Roberts

  Naming their son after her husband—that was a nice gesture, and surely a sign that there was hope for Jo and Mike.

  “Mike will love that,” Georgia said.

  Jo’s jaws clenched again. This time in pain. “Lord, help me. I recant.”

  Oh, the things women endured for love. Riley thought of Sean and she grimaced, too.

  “I guess I owe that crazy Santa a big thank-you.” Jo ran a finger over the baby’s downy head. She glanced up at Riley, her brows drawn. “Darn. I just realized we never got our picture.”

  “You’re right. I wonder if it’s too late.”

  “Considering the circumstances under which you left, the photographer probably saved it in her camera,” Mom said.

  “I can go check,” Riley offered. It would give her something to do.

  “That’s a great idea. Bring it back here and we can all see it,” Grammy said. “And while you’re out, pick up some burgers. The food here is awful.”

  With two grandmothers and a great-grandmother all hovering by the bed, Riley knew it would be an age and a half before she got to hold the baby, so she touched his little hand and then departed on her mission.

  There was a line of parents and children waiting at Santa’s Play Land to see him. This was a new Santa, with a long face and tired eyes and an equally tired-looking costume. And where was Mrs. Claus?

  Riley skirted the line and went to where a college-age girl in an elf suit stood, snapping pictures while Santa said, “Ho, ho, ho,” and waved goodbye to a tearful toddler.

  “Hi,” Riley began.

  The elf gave her a distracted hello and fiddled with her digital camera while another supplicant approached Santa’s throne.

  “Ho, ho, ho! Who have we got here?” Santa asked the boy in the Christmas suit and red bow tie. Not quite as prescient as her Santa had been.

  “I was here yesterday,” she said to the elf.

  The elf looked at her warily. “Is there a problem?”

  “No, no problem. Well, just a small one. About our picture.”

  “If you didn’t like your picture you should’ve said so yesterday.” The elf studied her. “I don’t remember you.”

  “Ho, ho, ho,” Santa said.

  “That’s my cue,” said the elf, and raised her camera.

  “You weren’t here yesterday.”

  The elf frowned. “Yeah, I was. The whole night except for when we went on break.”

  So theirs must have been a substitute Santa. “I guess you were on break when we came.” The elf continued to frown and Riley hurried on. “Anyway, we left without getting pictures because my sister was pregnant and her water broke when we were talking to him.”

  The elf made a face. “Yuck.”

  “Is there some way I can get a copy of the picture now? I was hoping the Mrs. Claus who took it saved it in the camera.”

  “We don’t have a Mrs. Claus.”

  “She was here. Last night. Around six. Taking pictures for Santa.”

  “Santa was on break then. So was I. There wasn’t anybody here.”

  That couldn’t be right. “There was a Santa here,” Riley insisted, pointing to the plywood chalet. “Over there.”

  “Trust me. He wasn’t. He was eating a burger and fries at the Dairy Queen drive-through and I was with him.”

  “Then who?” The hairs on the back of Riley’s neck snapped to attention.

  The elf looked at her as if she was crazy and shook her head. “Sorry. I don’t know who took your picture but it wasn’t us.” Santa ho-ho-hoed again and she got back to work with her camera, leaving Riley to go away and puzzle out her close Christmas encounter on her own.

  She was still puzzling as she drove down the street toward the fast-food drive-in. Who was that guy? Should she tell security that they had someone with a red-suit fetish running around impersonating Mr. Claus? And what about his accomplice? She’d seemed like such a sweet old lady. What was their racket, anyway? Maybe they were kidnappers out to make contact with trusting little kids.

  No, that was silly. What were they going to do there in the mall, tuck kids under their arms like two-legged footballs and run for it? Hop on a reindeer and gallop out of town? And what about all those strange predictions? Once more, the hairs on Riley’s neck stood at attention, like soldiers in The Nutcracker ballet. This was so...weird.

  With her brain fully occupied by the mystery of the phony mall Santa, she wasn’t paying proper attention to traffic. The red light and the red taillights in front of her didn’t register until... Yikes! She slammed on the brakes and skidded right into the car in front of her.

  Oh, no. She’d never been in a traffic accident. Never even had a ticket. Well, okay, three warnings, counting last night. But those weren’t the same as tickets.

  She hopped out of her car and started to run up to the dented compact. Wait a minute. She knew this car... The driver got out. “Emily!”

  Emily’s sweet expression morphed into something Ebenezer Scrooge would’ve been proud of. “Riley.”

  “Are you okay?”

  Emily ignored the question. “You hit me.”

  That was stating the obvious. “I’m so sorry.”

  “You did it on purpose.”

  “What? Why would I do that?”

  Emily gave a snort of disgust. “Because you’re passive-aggressive. Who knew?”

  “I am not!” Riley protested. “You might’ve stolen my fiancé, but that doesn’t make me passive-aggressive.”

  “See? Listen to you.”

  Two other drivers had pulled up. An old woman in a red wool cape and black stretch pants joined them. “I saw it all. I’ll be a witness.”

  “There’s nothing to witness,” Riley said. “All we have to do is exchange—”

  She didn’t get a chance to finish. Emily pointed a finger at her. “What did you tell everyone?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Don’t play dumb. Everyone at school knows I’m the reason you and Sean broke up. I can tell by the way they all look at me.”

  “I didn’t say anything about you. Marge asked what happened and I said he’d found someone else.”

  “It wasn’t all that hard to figure out who the someone else is, since you’re not speaking to me anymore,” Emily snapped.

  Wait a minute. How did she become the evil witch in this story? “Well, excuse me if I don’t want to talk about how things are going with you and my ex or ask about your plans for the weekend.”

  Emily whipped her cell phone out of her jacket pocket. “I’m calling 911.”

  “For a fender bender?”

  “No, for a personal attack.”

  Now here was the woman from the second car. She was raising her cell phone in Riley’s direction, taking pictures. She had a tall guy in a parka with her and he, too, had a camera—a big fancy one that probably took great night shots.

  “I’m Lizbeth Parker from the Whispering Pines Chronicle,” the woman said to Riley. “Do you have a comment?”

  “What?”

  “She attacked me with her car,” Emily insisted.

  “I did not!” Riley cried. But boy, she’d like to do exactly that right about now. “And there ought to be a number you can call when women steal their friends’ fiancés,” she added, glaring at Emily. Oh, no. Had she just said that in front of a reporter?

  The old woman in the red cape looked at Emily aghast. “You stole her fiancé?”

  “Not on purpose,” Emily said.

  Accidental man theft—there was no such thing.

  “I don’t blame you for rear-ending her,” the old woman told Riley.

  “I didn’t do it on purpose.” She realized she’d echoed Emily’s words. How ironic. “I was... My mind w
as somewhere else.”

  “Then you shouldn’t be driving.” The old woman leaned forward and sniffed Riley’s breath. “Have you been drinking, young woman?”

  “No! And turn off your phone and that...camera,” Riley said to the reporter.

  “Sorry. This is news.”

  “Since when is a fender bender news?”

  “Since the woman whose fender you’re bending took your man,” replied Lizbeth Parker.

  This couldn’t be happening.

  Now here came a patrol car, his red and blue lights flashing. And out of the car stepped... Oh, no. Riley’s escort from the night before. First he caught her running a red light and now this.

  “Is there a problem?” he asked.

  Emily pointed a finger at Riley. “She rear-ended me. It was an assault! With a car.”

  “I did not!” Riley shot back, her cheeks hot. Oh, boy. This was probably going to be in tomorrow’s paper.

  “I saw it all,” said the old woman. “She did.”

  “It was an accident,” Riley explained. “I was...” Thinking about the mystery mall Santa. No way was she saying that in front of a reporter. “Never mind. Just give me my ticket.”

  “You need to arrest her,” Emily insisted. “Wait till I tell Sean what you did.”

  Tattletale.

  “He’ll be glad you broke up,” Emily added.

  “I can’t believe I once thought you were my friend. I even asked you to be my bridesmaid!” There was no stopping her runaway mouth. Tell the reporter what you weigh while you’re at it, why don’t you?

  “Ma’am,” the officer said to Emily, “we don’t arrest people for rear-ending someone.”

  “I was just sitting here waiting for the light to turn and she plowed right into me,” Emily said. “That’s assault. She’s out to get me.”

  “I am not! I don’t ever want to see you again. Why don’t you...find a new school and go corrupt some other young minds?” Oh, Lord. She had to shut up. That would probably make the news, too. Would she and Emily both get fired? “Don’t print that,” she warned the reporter. “Or I’ll...sue you.”

  Her cell phone rang. It was Grammy. “We’re all starving. What’s taking you so long?”

  “I’ve been unavoidably detained,” Riley said. “You might want to order that hospital food.”

  “What? What’s happened?”

  “I was in an accident.”

  “An accident!” Grammy cried.

  “It was an assault,” Emily corrected.

  Mom was on the phone now. “What’s going on?”

  “I ran into someone.” Guess who I ran into on my way to the hospital.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, I’m fine. I’ll see you all later,” Riley said and ended the call. Meanwhile, Emily was glaring at her.

  The officer took out his handy-dandy ticket tablet. “I’ll have to cite you for following too closely,” he said to Riley. He sounded almost regretful.

  Tears spilled out of her eyes and started down her cheeks. She nodded.

  “I’ll need your driver’s license and registration.”

  Riley sniffed and produced the necessary information.

  Meanwhile Emily was still sputtering. “I’m going to get a restraining order.”

  The policeman turned to her. The look on his face was enough to make Riley want to confess to something, anything. I stole half my sister’s Halloween candy when I was seven. I cheated on a math test in eighth grade. I ate half a batch of brownies single-handedly.

  I hate Emily Dieb. Riley pressed her lips firmly together.

  “You need to get hold of yourself,” the officer said to Emily.

  For sure. “Emily, I think you’re sneaky and pathetic and I don’t want to be your friend anymore but I have better things to do than run around trying to take you out with my car,” Riley told her. “I mean, look at my front bumper. My insurance is going to go up.”

  “Yeah? Well, I’ve got whiplash,” Emily retorted.

  Good. “I’m sorry. My insurance will pay for whatever you need. And meanwhile, maybe Sean will give you a back rub.” Oh, dear. Where was her brain when her mouth needed help?

  “See? She is out to get me.”

  “You are not worth getting,” Riley informed her. “And you can have Sean. Any man who’d cheat on his fiancée can’t be trusted. Just remember, if he’ll do it with you, he’ll do it to you.”

  “Okay, ladies, that’s enough,” the officer said firmly. Jeez, he was cute. And disgusted. “One more word out of either of you and I’m going to haul you both down to the station.”

  “And what would be the charge, Officer?” asked Lizbeth Parker, girl reporter.

  “Lizbeth, go home,” the cop said wearily.

  “I have to report the news.”

  “This isn’t news. It’s a fender bender. Now get out of here.”

  “Do you need my statement?” the older woman asked eagerly. “I saw it all. My name is Willa Parsons.” She proceeded to give the officer her phone number and he dutifully wrote it down. “You can call me anytime,” she added.

  Same here, thought Riley. Except now she looked like a whack job.

  Another few minutes, and insurance information had been exchanged and Emily had settled down and promised not to press charges. Then she climbed in her car and drove off into the night.

  Lizbeth and Willa had taken off by now, so that left Riley and the handsome Officer Knight. “I really didn’t hit her on purpose,” she said.

  He nodded. “I know.” Then he tipped his cap, told her to have a pleasant night and got back in his patrol car.

  “Thanks for being so nice,” she called after him and he raised his hand in a wave. Do you have a girlfriend? Do you like cookies?

  If Riley baked a batch of gumdrop cookies and invited Officer Knight over to help her eat them, how many cookies would they eat before they got around to kissing under the mistletoe?

  Sigh. Who was she kidding? Policemen didn’t hang out with crazy women who rear-ended man-stealing former friends. Although he’d seemed...sympathetic. Sympathy, attraction—surely those two were related somehow.

  She continued on her way to the hospital...driving oh, so carefully, and got to Jo’s room in time to find her sister, mother and grandmother all enjoying hamburgers from the hospital cafeteria. Georgia had gone home to make dinner for her husband.

  “These aren’t half-bad,” Grammy told her.

  “Did you have one sent up for me?” Riley asked. Nothing like a close encounter with a former friend to work up a girl’s appetite.

  Grammy and Mom both looked guilty. “We’ll call right now,” Mom said and picked up the phone.

  “Meanwhile, tell us about this accident. You don’t have whiplash or anything, do you?” Grammy took another chomp of her burger.

  Riley shook her head and fell onto a chair. “No, but Emily claims she’s got it.”

  “Emily?” Jo stared at her. “What are you talking about?”

  “I rear-ended her,” Riley confessed.

  “Why on earth did you do that?” Mom asked, taking a moment from her conversation with the cafeteria. “And ice cream for dessert,” she finished.

  “No ice cream for me,” Riley said. The last thing she needed was more calories.

  “I’ll eat it,” Grammy said. How her grandmother stayed so slim when she ate so much was a mystery. Maybe she had a tapeworm.

  Mom hung up the phone and turned to Riley. “So, sweetie, what exactly happened with Emily?”

  Public humiliation, that was what. “It was awful,” Riley said miserably. “She started ranting about how I’ve turned all the teachers against her. Then the police came. And then there was this woman from the newspaper. I
swear, if I end up in the paper as a crazy ex-bride stalker, I’m going to sue...someone.”

  “Don’t worry. The paper has bigger stories than that to print.”

  “In Whispering Pines? Right,” Jo said cynically.

  Mom frowned at her. “You’re not helping.”

  “Our poor girl.” Grammy leaned over and gave Riley a hug. She smelled like onions.

  “Did the awful woman back into you?” Mom wanted to know.

  “No. I did rear-end her, but not on purpose.”

  “Of course not,” Grammy said.

  “Although that might’ve been fun,” Jo cracked and kissed her baby’s head.

  “Don’t listen to your mother, little Mikey,” Mom said, giving Jo another disciplinary frown. “Violence is never a solution.”

  Jo rolled her eyes, and Mom returned her attention to Riley. “How did you happen to rear-end her? Did she stop suddenly?”

  Riley shook her head and sighed. “No. She was already stopped for a red light. Which probably explains why she thought I was out to get her.”

  “And you didn’t see the red light?” Grammy asked in shock. “Or recognize her car?”

  “I’m afraid I was, um, thinking.”

  “Thinking!” Grammy exclaimed. “You’re not supposed to think when you drive. You’re supposed to pay attention.”

  “Oh, sweetie,” said Mom, “were you thinking about Sean?”

  “No, I was thinking about Santa.”

  Her mother and grandmother frowned in unison.

  “What about Santa?” Jo asked.

  “He wasn’t at the mall. Neither was Mrs. Claus.”

  Jo looked puzzled. “What do you mean, he wasn’t at the mall?”

  “I mean there was a Santa, but he wasn’t ours.”

  “How would you know?” Mom scoffed. “All those shopping mall Santas look the same.”

  “I could tell,” Riley insisted. “And there was an elf taking pictures and she said they didn’t have a Mrs. Claus. And get this. The guy who’s at the mall now was on duty last night, except he and the elf were taking a break when we were there.”

  “So what did we see, the Ghost of Santa Past?”