by Allie Marell
“Of course we will,” Andra said. Santar seemed beyond speech after the initial contact. Andra could almost see the questions crowding his mind. The waves of sadness and anger for the misery he and his mother endured. For the two men he might have called Father, neither of whom he had any memory.
“My best friend’s son is in hospital. I’m like an aunt to him and we promised we’d visit, didn’t we, Santar? I mean, William.
“Santar? Is that what they called you, son?” Mrs Chapman closed her eyes, as if to contain the deep sorrow within. “I’m so terribly sorry I couldn’t save you.”
“My rank was Qua7 SA NT AR12.” Santar’s eyes closed, remembering. “Never blame yourself...Mother. I know you would have died to save me.”
“Your father...”
“I know, the Harvester told me.”
“It’s complicated, son.” For a moment, Mrs Chapman seemed at a loss. Floundering for the words to explain her long, sad journey to this expensive home for elderly gentlefolk, paid for by the very creature they should hate while her son fought for some monstrous tyrant half a galaxy away.
“How could you even look at that creature?”
“I need you to understand, William.”
“You have no idea what he did to me.”
“Son...”
Andra made an executive decision, feeling the tension in the room rising. “Would you like me to bring William over tomorrow? You have so much to talk about.” Too soon for conversations that might well end in words they’d regret. Enough, for now, that they found each other.
“We do. Yes, do come. I’d like that.” Mrs Chapman held out a hand in silent appeal.
Andra kept very still, waiting. Finally Santar offered his own hand, touching fingers in a gesture so natural, no one would doubt the connection between them. They both looked relieved by the reprieve. Santar took the few steps to the tall sash window, bracing his hands on the sill to gaze out over the extensive landscaped gardens.
“Be sure to visit, son. Give me an excuse to avoid those ghastly games they force us to take part in.” The twinkle had returned. Here was a woman used to masking her feelings and keeping it all locked tight inside. Much like her son, who’d obviously reached emotional overload.
Time to go.
“Mrs Chapman. You could spend Christmas Eve with us. If you want to, that is. We’ll be at the hospital on Christmas Day.” The words were out before she could stop them. They hung tense between them and Andra wondered with a sinking heart whether she’d overstepped the mark. What if Santar wasn’t ready for that?
“Thank you, my dear.” Mrs Chapman glanced at her son brooding at the window. “I’m not so fond of Christmas, but please, will you spend it with my son? The culture shock, when I first came here, was immense. How much worse must it be for him after all these years?”
“It’s a lot for you both, Mrs Chapman.”
“Nora, please. That’s the name I go by on this planet. He’s angry about Zegar, I see that.”
“He paid us a visit this morning.”
“Zegar came to your house? Oh, my dear, I’m so sorry about that.” Nora’s mouth set in a determined line, showing a small glimpse of the strong woman who crossed a galaxy to evade capture and save her son. “I’ll have stern words with him the next time he visits.”
“It appears his conscience is bothering him, now the afterlife beckons.” Santar spoke from his post at the window, his voice heavy with sarcasm. “I’ll see him rot in the infernal pit before he receives my forgiveness.”
“The Harvester, Zegar, was the only link to my son.” Nora’s frail body slumped in the chair, eyes half closed, as if she’d forgotten they were there. “A link I could not afford to break. I did this for you, William,” she murmured.
Santar leaned his forehead on the window glass, staring resolutely out.
“Nora, give him time. He’ll understand.” Eventually, Andra added in her head. “William, why don’t we leave your mother to rest now?”
He took a long time to turn around, to let go his death grip on the window sill. His stiff smile forced as he bent to kiss his mother’s cheek.
“Wait. Don’t leave yet,” she said, rousing herself. “I have something. I kept it for you.”
“You did?”
They both knew what she meant.
“It’s in the chest, in the bottom drawer. But promise you won’t open it this year. Keep it until next Christmas when you’ve had more time.”
“I no longer have need of it.” Santar was staring at the chest as if it contained all the hounds of hell. Andra nodded him encouragement, making a discreet shooing movement with her hand. He’d waited too long to leave without it.
Faded Christmas wrapping secured with fraying string covered the parcel nestled inside a fine wool sweater. Santar snatched it up and stamped from the room without saying goodbye. Andra sent Nora an apologetic smile and almost had to run to keep up with his determined stride along the corridor. He took the steps two at a time, leaving her behind. She heard the buzz of the door as Santar let himself out.
Follow, or give him some time to himself? Follow, she decided, and signed them both out. He needed her. She found him standing at the edge of the patio where an ornate stone balustrade and grand steps led down to what looked like a lawn under all the snow.
“I do not know what to feel, how to feel,” he said simply and her heart went out to him.
“You’ll learn.”
“I was a fool to imagine an immediate bond. Too many years spent apart. Andra, how could she allow that creature to keep her?” Santar rounded on her, eyes blazing with anger. “After all he did to her?”
“Don’t blame her, Santar. He was her only link to you. Keep your friends close, but keep your enemies closer. Isn’t that how it goes?”
“I do not blame her. I merely wish...”
“You found each other. And she kept your Christmas gift all these years. She truly loved you.” Andra moved closer, feeling the slight hesitation before he enclosed her in his arms. “Santar, let go of the past and move on from here. When I was eighteen, in my first year at university, my parents went to Antarctica on a research expedition. They never returned. I watched the door for so many years after that, thinking that one day they’d just walk in smiling and tell me it had all been a bad dream.”
“They never did return?” He kissed the top of her head, resting his cold cheek on the kiss. “And I did not think to enquire about your kin. Centrum Command turned me into a barren planet devoid of feeling, devoid of life. I have much to learn, but my mother returned to me and that makes me fortunate. I’m glad, Andra. Happy, even if I have no idea how to express that emotion.”
“We’ll get you there, Mr Spock.”
He lifted his head. “Who’s Mr Spock?”
“Only one of the best characters ever written, that’s who. I’ll introduce you to Star Trek, Star Wars. You can tell me how near the mark the writer’s got.”
She’d have loved to stand there all day, holding and being held. Breathing in the sharp winter air, warmed by this unexpected man. The sound of a throaty engine toiling up the long drive made her step reluctantly away. Santar followed her to the car, stepping aside for the mini bus pulling up full of residents home from their shopping trip.
As Andra turned the car, Santar looked up and out at the stately old house the online history said once belonged to a rich, Victorian mill-owner. The sun turned the tall windows opaque, so no telling if his mother stood at the sill, watching her prodigal son leave.
“I’ll take you home,” she said to him. Enough for one day with the strange old man’s visit and then the meeting with his mother. To say nothing of finally getting the gift he so wanted.
Andra decided she’d visit the hospital alone to give him a little space and then swing by the supermarket to start her Christmas shopping.
The sun was almost blinding on the pristine snow and she thought about how the tiny, perfect flakes could transform
a whole world overnight.
And how one lost man had changed her whole life in a few days.
“I’ll buy some extras. Just in case she changes her mind about Christmas.”
“She won’t,” Santar said and sounded a little relieved. He sighed as if he didn’t mean it to come out that way. “Besides, we will be spending Christmas at the hospital, remember?”
“We will. And you’ll be dressing up as Santa.”
“I’d rather fight a Forilian dragon.”
“No wriggling out of it, Starman. You owe me for General Jo and I am so going to collect.”
His horrified expression nearly made her crash the car.
Christmas Day
Andra stood shivering in the cold car park, watching Santar make another thorough inspection of the car boot and back seat.
“No Santa suits, I promise.” She bit her lip to contain the laughter at the joke she’d managed to string out until Santar decided retribution was due.
Her cold cheeks heated at the thought of his stern face when he’d ordered her upstairs to extract suitable punishment. No, don’t think of that right before visiting a seven-year-old boy. How would she ever look Oliver in the eye?
“I don’t trust you.” Santar slammed down the boot lid. “Don’t make me have to punish you again.”
“Oh, well in that case,” she said coyly. “I do believe I left a Santa suit under the driver seat.”
Santar was half way back to the car when he paused and realised she was still joking. Andra ran for the entrance, with him in hot pursuit, almost mowing down an old man balanced precariously on two walking sticks. They both slowed to a stroll in the busy entrance, pausing at the antibacterial spray boxes to sanitise their hands. Santar unzipped his jacket in deference to the overpowering heat, revealing a reindeer emblazoned sweater.
Booty from a covert charity store visit, Andra looked away as the laughter threatened to return. Not that Santar looked out of place with the doctors wearing Santa hats, the nurses dressed as elves. Santar threw her a suspicious look as he studied an elderly gentleman wearing exactly the same sweater.
“It’s better than a Santa suit,” she said innocently.
“Only marginally,” Santar muttered darkly. He gave her a half-bow, lifting his palms in surrender. “I concede the victory. Are you happy now?”
“Very happy, actually.” She had to stop, right there in the middle of the crowded hospital reception area, to contain the surge of emotion tightening her chest. All the Christmas cheer, Santar finding reason to laugh and banter with her after all his trauma. It was almost too much.
“Is it appropriate to hold you in a public place?” He’d found happiness, too, even if he needed practice at showing it.
“Hugs are always appropriate.”
As they stood there, amidst the chatter and tinny Christmas music, the people swirling around them, she felt blessed.
“I think Mother appreciated the foliage.”
Santar let her go, steering her to the stairs. They’d dropped in on Nora on the way to the hospital to deliver a bunch of holly and mixed evergreen cuttings Santar must have gathered early morning. Andra found him in the kitchen, sucking on his thumb, pricked by a holly leaf, and trying in vain to wrestle the arrangement into something resembling a picture he found in a magazine.
As if the guy couldn’t be more endearing.
Nora had looked a little baffled by the strange arrangement, and then she’d smiled and hugged him and told them how he’d picked a holly branch as a child and brought it to her for luck.
“Yes, I think she did.”
They took the stairs to the children’s ward, passing a Salvation Army brass band belting out Christmas carols. Andra fished in her bag for a pound coin to drop into the collecting tin. Santar nodded his approval.
Waiting to be buzzed into the ward, she felt a flutter of butterflies in her stomach. Oliver said he’d asked Santa for three things. Oh well, one out of three wasn’t bad.
“I wish I’d been here to see Oliver’s face when he opened his parcels this morning.”
She’d wrapped a few gifts for Santar, too. Left him to open them in private. He’d stowed his mother’s parcel in an upstairs closet, following her instructions to open it next Christmas.
“She kept the toy all these years, Andra. Never lost faith in me.”
“Nora’s an amazing woman.” Andra never doubted what the parcel held.
“I know.”
Oliver waved wildly from a bed covered in ripped Christmas wrapping, triumphantly holding up General Jo.
“Santa read my letter.” He hugged the toy to his chest. “Got me everything I wanted.”
“Oh my,” Andra said, making a huge show of surprise. “You got it.”
“And everything else too. Santa’s the best.”
“Oliver, you do remember I am not Santa? That I was only helping him deliver all the presents?” Santar squatted by the bed, looking the child in the eye.
“Of course you’re not, silly. Santa’s fat and has a big white curly beard. Annie told me. She said you were called Santar anyway, not Santa.” He pointed to the empty bed next to his. “She got to go home for Christmas.”
“I’m glad we understand each other.” Santar bumped fists with Oliver, and Andra thought that perhaps his gaze lingered for a little too long on General Jo. He swiped a chocolate from Oliver’s stash and stepped back.
Well, that was easier than she imagined. “So what else did Santa bring you, Oliver?” She emptied her own bag of extra gifts onto the bed. Oliver stuck a half-eaten sugar lollipop into his mouth, eyeing her as if she was stupid.
“He brought me Mummy and Daddy, like I asked.”
“What did you say?”
“Mummy and Daddy. They’re upstairs, talking to each other.”
“Upstairs?”
“General Jo is a proper soldier. Are you a proper soldier, Santar?”
“I was once, yes.” Santar picked up on her panicked expression. Tilted his chin at the door. “I will ask General Jo to show you a few army manoeuvres while Andra goes to talk to your mother and father.”
“Thank you, Santar,” she breathed. Oliver had the look of a child where everything was right with his world. But how could that be when his mother was in a coma and his father was in Italy?
“I’ll be right back.” She ran from the ward, taking the corridor at a gallop, diving up the stairs when the elevator took an age to reach her floor. An ICU nurse wearing an antler headband buzzed her in.
“Isn’t it marvellous news?” she said as if Andra already knew what she was talking about. “You can go right on in. She’s been asking for you.”
“Emma’s awake?”
“Yesterday evening, apparently. I’ve just come on shift. But what a Christmas present for little Oliver, eh?”
“He mentioned his father.”
“Yes, he was here last night. Apparently Mr Garino was in Manchester on a business trip and on his way home to Italy when he rang to enquire about his ex-wife. When he heard she’d woken up, he called in on the way to the airport.”
So Oliver’s dad hadn’t made a special journey to see his son at Christmas? Still, Andra kept her opinions to herself. It might have been coincidence, but he’d been here when the boy needed him. That’s all that mattered.
“Can I see her?”
“She’s very drowsy and her memory is still very blurry. But yes, you can stay for a few minutes.”
“Andra?” Emma’s head turned as she entered the room. Andra flew across the space, bending to hug her best friend. Emma laughed on a gasping breath.
“I’m back.”
“It’s like a fairy tale, sleeping beauty.” Andra studied her friend’s pale face. “Trust you to keep us waiting until Christmas Day.”
“Oliver was here. You found him a new General Jo? Last thing I remember is the fire...”
“Don’t tire yourself. I have so much news to tell you.”
“C
an’t wait...”
Emma drifted in and out of sleep while Andra contemplated the Christmas miracle happening right before her eyes.
The door opened. Andra turned to see Santar standing hesitantly in the opening and her heart did a backflip. She wanted to tell everyone that this guy was all hers.
Oh man, she had it bad.
“How long have I been out?” Emma’s voice had faded almost to nothing. “I keep forgetting...”
Santar stepped closer, reaching for Andra’s hand.
“Long enough for whole worlds to change, Em. I can’t wait to tell you all about it.”
Emma’s eyes fluttered closed, a tiny smile lighting her face. Andra caught sight of the hovering nurse, beckoning them away. She tiptoed from the room with the man she’d always think of as Santar. The Starman who travelled the galaxy seeking his past, and found a new future, with her.
The man who finally found his lost Christmas.
And gave her a Christmas she’d never forget.
Epilogue
Next Christmas
He stands, arms folded, one shoulder propped on the door frame, watching Andra refresh the computer screen over and over. He explained the algorithms a hundred times, told her the charts won’t change for at least an hour. She’s not listening.
“Yes!” They must have heard her scream on Kelper Prime. Santar pushes off the door frame and joins her at the screen, leaning over to peruse the new bestseller charts. Jess follows, huffing determinedly after him. Some days the dog is like a second skin.
Andra’s lip quivers and he slides an arm around her shoulders in a hug.
“We did it, Santar. Horizon’s Delta is officially a Christmas hit.”
He’s trying to play it cool as they say here on Earth, and was reluctant at first to embrace Andra’s suggestion that they form a writing partnership to produce gritty science fiction novels using his unique perspective on space, the universe and everything extra-terrestrial.
A bit of gentle persuasion convinced him it might be cathartic to pour his old life onto the page and as a bonus, turn it into a steady income stream. And she was right. Who better than a Starman to write adventures set amongst the stars?