The Owl and the Pussycat, Mother Goose, Sleeping Beauty...fairy tales and nursery rhymes, childhood fantasies, they rolled on, one after another. Here came the clowns in their orange-and-white polka dots, followed by a rolling big top with an animated tiger jumping through a flaming ring. From somewhere up Yonge Street, hidden by the crowd, came the brassy strains of the next marching band.
The cold air nipped her cheeks and she shoved her chilled hands into the pockets of her coat. Winter had suddenly sprung upon them, as it did so often in Ontario. Hard to believe a week ago she had been enjoying the warmth of an Indian summer.
Her first parade. This should be the happiest moment of her life. Over the walkie-talkies she had heard from the marshals that the new floats were wildly popular. People were saying it was the best parade they’d seen in years. It should have been her moment of triumph, but all she felt was pain and sadness. She felt almost detached from it all.
A stir in the crowd made her turn to see the big front doors open, and she felt her constant pain sharpen into needles of despair.
Michael emerged to stand on the steps, along with a group of civic dignitaries, and behind them ranged the gray flannel retinue. He mustn’t see her, so she moved away, trying to lose herself in the crowd massed by the street corner.
A few flakes of snow were beginning to drift down as she edged through the families clustered by the roadside. Tiny children lined the curb, bundled up against the cold in snowsuits and scarves so that only their eyes peeked out, alight with anticipation.
From the street vendors’ carts came the tang of roasted chestnuts and barbecued hot dogs. People were cheering the floats, singing along with the marching bands, smiling and talking to strangers. The friendliness and spirit of goodwill were almost tangible and brought a lump to her throat.
One of the marshals walking by flashed her the thumbs-up sign. “Looking great! Well done, Sabrina. Good job!”
She smiled at him, but it was only a movement of her lips. Nothing meant anything anymore. Not even this.
Her eyes kept seeking Michael, as if just the sight of him were balm to her wounded soul. But his face was the saddest face she’d ever seen. She melted farther into the crowd, feeling cold, bleak misery. Suddenly a hand grabbed her elbow from behind.
Shock trembled through her at the sight of Colin’s face. He gave her a small, uncertain smile. “Hi.”
“Hi,” she responded automatically, stunned that he had deliberately approached her. But at the same time a tiny little germ of hope lodged itself in her heart. She held her breath.
“Great parade.” A little stiff and awkward, he nodded toward the passing cluster of ladybugs and butterflies.
“Yeah, it seems to have worked out.” Breathless, she felt her heart speeding up.
His eyes met hers for a moment, then slid away, but not before she saw the anxiety there, the uncertainty, and the hope inside her grew a little more.
“I had a visit from Santa last night.”
“Oh?” Against all reason, the hope was growing inside her by leaps and bounds, tightening in her chest and throat until she felt almost strangled.
“Yeah. We had a long talk.” He looked down into her eyes again. “Want to know what we talked about?”
“Uh-huh.” She nodded, a convulsive little jerk of her head.
“He asked me what I wanted for Christmas.”
“And what did you say?” She had to force her voice to stay calm and even, trying to contain her breathless anxiety.
His gaze slid away again. She saw him swallow hard, and when he looked back at her, his eyes were shining, his voice sounded thick and tremulous. “I told him I wanted my dad.” A tear trickled down his cheek and suddenly he looked so young, so vulnerable. Just a boy. “That’s what I’ve wanted for such a long, long time.”
With an inarticulate cry, she put her arms around him and led him through the crowd, back against the wall of the building, away from the curious looks. Her own tears were flowing freely as she hugged him tight.
“Oh, Colin, he loves you so much. Just give him a chance. All he wants is to be your dad.” She stepped back and looked up into his face as he wiped a hand across his cheeks.
“I’ve been a real idiot, haven’t I?” She shook her head, but he went on seriously. “Yes I have. I tried to punish you, because I thought you were trying to take my father away just when we were getting closer.”
“Nobody could come between you and your father. He loves you so much.”
“I know that now. Can you ever forgive me?”
In answer, she hugged him again, not sure whether to laugh or cry, but doing both at the same time. She could feel him shaking as he hugged her back.
“Come on.” Colin put her away from him with determination and took her hand in a firm grip.
“Where are we going?” She sniffed and fished a tissue from her pocket, trying to keep up as he pulled her through the crowd.
“This isn’t finished yet.” Radiating resolution and pent-up excitement, he gave her a look that made her catch her breath. “Aren’t we forgetting someone?”
No. She had never forgotten for a second. He began fighting his way through the closely packed crowd, pulling her along behind him. She was too short to see anything up ahead; she could just make out a blur of hats and winter coats, and the legs of children riding on their father’s shoulders for a better look.
Suddenly Colin stopped, moved aside and pulled her forward. She found herself at the main entrance again and looked up to see Michael three steps above her. His grave face was focused on the passing parade, but she could tell from his expression that he really wasn’t seeing anything at all.
She opened her mouth to say his name, but nothing came out; then suddenly he turned and looked down at her. The blank look vanished as he frowned, his gaze shifting to Colin, slightly behind her. She turned to see Colin smiling up at his father, shy, uncertain, but determined nevertheless. Michael stared back at him as if he didn’t dare trust his own eyes.
He took the first two stairs slowly, like a man in a dream, then almost leapt down the last step to sweep his son into an embrace.
With his father’s arms around him, Colin bit his lip nervously. “I love you, Dad. I’m sorry I’ve been such a jerk.”
Michael heaved a massive sigh and closed his eyes, gripping his son as if he never wanted to let him go. “I love you more than life itself.”
Sublime, inexpressible happiness filled her heart. This moment had been a long time coming. The wounds of the past couldn’t be healed overnight, but now they could heal together, father and son at last.
Michael released the boy with one arm and turned toward her, the lines of fear and care smoothed from his face as he reached out to pull her into his embrace, but she held back.
Colin gave them both a challenging grin. “I hope you guys plan on marrying soon. It’s time we became a real family.”
Michael met his son’s smile and laughed, carefree and happy. “Don’t you worry about that. Will a special license be soon enough for you?”
“Wait a minute!” Her sober expression made them both stop smiling. “I think you should stick to your original plan.”
Michael stared at her in confusion.
“Maybe it isn’t a good idea to rush into this. You need time with your son to make up for all those wasted years, time to think about what you really want.”
The bewilderment vanished from his face and that hard, implacable mask closed over it again, daunting her, but she knew what she had to do.
“You and Colin should go away....”
“We’ll all go away together.” His tone was uncompromising.
“Then, when you come back—”
“I’m not letting you go, Sabrina,” Michael broke in. “I won’t let you talk yourself out of this. I love you, and you love me. I know you do.”
“I do. I do love you, but...”
“No buts. I want to marry you, Sabrina. I want your a
nswer now and it had better be yes.”
Once again she faced that hard, indomitable man she had first encountered.
“Aw, come on, lady. Put the poor guy out of his misery—say yes.”
At the strange voice, she turned with a start to find that the surrounding crowd were all looking at them, not the parade. Even Walter Stevenson stood gaping down at them from the top step, his mouth hanging open in astonishment.
Looking to Colin she saw only eager encouragement. Her gaze came back to Michael, who only watched her steadily. There was no pleading in his eyes now. He just waited.
And then someone in the crowd started chanting, “Say yes. Say yes.”
Before long, a multitude of other voices had joined in. But the quiet, waiting look in Michael’s eyes held her mesmerized.
Then another voice yelled out, “Give the girl a chance. He wouldn’t hear her even if she did say yes.”
And then there was silence. Vaguely she became aware of another marching band going by, and still Michael watched her with that steady look.
What choice did she have? Who was she to argue with fate when it was offering to make all her dreams come true? A slow smile broke out on her face. “Yes.”
A cheer went up from the crowd around them. With a triumphant smile, Michael gathered her in his arms, completely uncaring of their audience.
“Just as well. I wasn’t going to take no for an answer.”
And then his lips met hers in a kiss that left her breathless and clinging to him.
Suddenly she heard Colin call out, “Hey! Here comes Santa!”
Michael lifted his head. With one hot look that promised much more to come later, he led her up to the top step. Walter Stevenson stood back to make room for her, his quivering jowls slack, his mouth hanging open in stupefaction.
Laughter rose to her lips, but then all thoughts of Walter’s ludicrous outrage fled from her mind when Michael came to stand behind her. He wrapped her tightly in his arms, molding her to his hard body, as if he couldn’t bear to let her go.
Warm and safe in his embrace, she watched the final float approach, a fantasy of glittering ice and snow with little green elves perched along the edge and a massive red sleigh pulled by mechanical reindeer.
A Fairy Tale Christmas she had called the parade this year, and that was how it would be for her. This Christmas and all the rest to come, with Michael at her side.
The only shadow on her perfect happiness was the thought that it wouldn’t be Charlie in the sleigh. Nobody else seemed to care. The crowd below exploded in cheers and the children began jumping up and down and waving madly as the float came nearer. She had to hand it to George, though. He was doing a wonderful job.
“Ho, ho, ho” came booming over the speakers. “Merry Christmas!”
And his voice sounded almost exactly like... As the float made its majestic approach, she peered hard at the man in the familiar scarlet costume, at the twinkling gray eyes above the white whiskers, then slowly she shook her head in disbelief.
“It’s Charlie!”
The float rolled to a halt in front of the store and Sabrina began cheering and jumping up and down along with the rest of the crowd. “Michael, look, it’s Charlie!”
It was Charlie all right, waving and ho-ho-ho-ing to everyone’s delight. He caught sight of her on the steps and blew her a kiss. Now everything really was perfect.
“Thanks, Santa,” Colin yelled out beside her.
And suddenly she knew who had paid him a visit the night before. Charlie had been Worth’s Santa ever since Colin was seven years old. Who would be better than Charlie at helping a confused boy get past his own hurt and see his father for the man he really was—a loving man who made his mistakes while desperately trying to do the right thing.
She had Charlie to thank for setting Colin on the road to a newfound maturity and understanding. She had Charlie to thank for her happiness.
Choked with tears, she blew him a kiss in return. “Yes. Thank you, Santa.”
Turning to Michael, she wrapped her arms tightly around him as he looked down into her eyes.
“I love you,” he whispered as the crowd went crazy around them.
“And I love you.” Her lips met his in a kiss so sweet and filled with so much promise that Sabrina knew with all her heart that there really must be a Santa Claus after all.
ISBN: 978-1-4592-8640-5
Man Under the Mistletoe
Copyright © 1995 by Carol Bruce-Thomas and Debra McCarthy-Anderson
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