Christmas in Destiny

by Toni Blake

  Sue Ann looked at her. “Did he just say whippersnapper?”

  “I think he’s channeling Grampy,” Candice said.

  Grampy gently snapped the reins against Charley’s back as the sleigh traversed a meadow near Sugar Creek. Edna’s orchard lay in the distance, the apple trees still covered with a blanket of snow, some of which had melted and refrozen over time, leaving it to glisten in the sun. Though the weather seemed to be changing—clouds rolling in. Just a few at first, but soon they turned the blue sky to a pale wintry white.

  “Now this is fun, Willie,” Edna said, wearing a smile that lit him up inside. “Cold, but fun.”

  Indeed, now that the sun had gone behind the veil of clouds, the breeze was brisker and more biting. But Grampy took advantage of the situation. “Grab that blanket there on the seat beside ya and put it over our laps.”

  And as Edna spread the blanket over them, he was so bold as to scoot a little closer, wondering if she noticed.

  She did. “You tryin’ to snuggle up with me or somethin’, old man?”

  He knew Edna well, but he couldn’t read her tone just now. And this was probably a real good time to be nervous. But he held that at bay. He hadn’t run out on the party just to blow things by chickening out here. “Maybe I am,” he told her, keeping his eyes on the snowy landscape ahead of them.

  He felt her cast an uncertain look his way and couldn’t read that, either.

  So finally he said, “That okay with you?”

  She took her sweet time answering. And despite the cold, Grampy feared he’d break out in a sweat any second now.

  Until she finally said, “Reckon it’s all right.”

  And relief barreled through him like a freight train.

  But it still seemed like . . . time to say more. Time to really go for this. The way he’d intended to when he’d grabbed Edna and insisted on this unplanned sleigh ride. She’d been understandably surprised at first, and he’d told her he was feeling spontaneous and getting too old not to act on it. She’d seemed to embrace that, happy to come along for the ride. And now here they were. And it was the moment of truth.

  So he pulled back on the reins, giving a low, “Whoa,” and brought both horse and sleigh to a standstill right in the middle of the snow-covered orchard. “Thing is, Edna, I’m sweet on you.”

  Lord, he hadn’t meant to just blurt it out like that—but it was out there now, and there was nothing left to do but wait and see how she took it.

  She looked at him, looked right into his eyes, clearly surprised. “Well, when did this start?”

  He swallowed nervously. Felt the cold seeping into his bones even as the back of his neck began to perspire beneath the winter scarf he wore. “Just recently,” he told her. “And if you don’t feel the same way—why, we can just forget I ever opened that door. We can be the way we’ve always been. You’re my dearest friend in the world and I’d never want to damage that.

  “But it seemed to me the sensible thing to do was tell ya. In case ya might feel the same way. Because . . . well, me and you, we ain’t spring chickens, and I just got to thinkin’ that life’s too short to let opportunities pass by.

  “But again, if the idea don’t appeal, if it’s too late for old dogs to learn new tricks, if ya just want to keep things the way they are, you just say the word.”

  “That’s the real reason behind this here spontaneous sleigh ride,” she acknowledged.

  He nodded. “Yes ma’am. Though the idea was spontaneous.”

  The woman he’d known longer than anyone in his life still looked uncertain, and uncharacteristically shy. He hadn’t known Edna had a shy bone in her body, but maybe he’d just uncovered a part of her he’d never encountered before.

  And he waited anxiously, every chilled nerve ending inside him standing at attention, until she said, cautiously, “Iffen a couple o’ old dogs was to learn such a new trick, how do you propose they’d go about startin’?”

  And his heart warmed. And, almost to his surprise, a few other parts of him, too.

  “Well, I’m told that if you’re cold, it can be nice to . . . warm each other up. And I’m cold.”

  “Me too,” she said. And then she scooted just a little closer to him than she already was.

  She wore gloves, but he reached for one of her hands with his own gloved hand and held it. And felt her holding his hand back. The sweet sensation was different than anything he could have expected or predicted. Safe. And indeed warm. It spread a low, saturating, new sort of warmth all through his body.

  They sat silently that way, both of them just soaking up the newness of it, getting used to it, until finally he said, “This is nice.”

  And then she gave him the same smile he’d seen on so many occasions over the years—only this time it was different. It held so much more. It was only for him. But in a whole new way. “I’m glad you told me how you felt, Willie.”

  “We keep this up,” he said to her, “and we might end up not feelin’ like such old dogs after all.”

  They laughed softly together and she echoed his earlier thought by saying, “Funny the surprises life brings along sometimes when you least expect ’em.”

  And the smile she gave him then—well, he felt it in his chest, like something bursting open wide, something being set free, like she’d just given him the best Christmas present he’d ever gotten. So then he did something else spontaneous. He leaned over and kissed her.

  It wasn’t a long kiss; it wasn’t a deep one. It was just a peck really. But the nicest dang peck he could have imagined.

  And he was pretty sure she’d liked it, too, when she gasped a little and said, “My, my—you’re just full o’ surprises today.”

  Grampy wouldn’t have minded if that moment had never ended.

  And then something curious happened—it started to snow, white flakes wafting gently down over them.

  “Was it supposed to snow?” Edna wondered aloud, leaning her head back to peek toward the sky.

  “Don’t believe so,” Grampy replied. “Reckon it’s just some Christmas angels lettin’ us know they approve.”

  “Or . . . maybe they’re wantin’ me to keep you warm some more, old man,” she suggested.

  Hmm, could be that Edna had some surprises of her own.

  He gave her a grin. “What say we take this old sleigh back to my place and build us a fire and get all cozylike?”

  Now she pulled back a little. “Been a dern long time since I been cozylike with anybody.”

  But he understood. Change was hard. A little scary.

  Though he suddenly felt easy about this, like they were in it together and it would all be just fine. Better than fine. “Likewise,” he told her. “But we’ll take it slow. Ain’t no need to rush things now. I feel like . . . we’re right where we’re supposed to be.”

  And as Grampy picked back up the reins and turned Charley and the sleigh toward home, he thought of Shane and looked forward to thanking him. The boy had brought a lot of good into his life in a short time. Sometimes younger folks didn’t realize how much even small things could mean when you were older and a little lonely—but he had a feeling that this was going to be the best thing of all about meeting the younger man. A new beginning, new romance, that he’d never have had if Shane hadn’t come along and pointed out what was right in front of his face all along.

  By the time the last child left the gazebo, people were starting to disperse and the party drawing to a close. It had started to snow and people wanted to get home in case the roads got bad.

  Shane heard Amy Whitaker across the way saying, “It’s almost Christmas—a fresh coating of snow might be nice.”

  “Bite your tongue, Amy,” Mike Romo replied as he picked up his little girl, preparing to depart. “The first foot and a half wasn’t enough for you?”

  “Come on, Mike, it’s Christmas—get in the spirit,” she said, taking Logan’s hand and starting to move toward the garden gate as well.

  The
truth was, Shane felt invigorated. He never would have believed he could enjoy playing Santa so much. He’d been nervous at first, but somehow that had fallen away as he’d looked into the kids’ faces and realized it was actually pretty damn easy to make them happy. And that had felt good.

  Sure, he’d had a couple of cryers, and a few who were clearly scared shitless of a dude with a bad beard who they didn’t know—and that had thrown him a little, each time. But Candy had usually been nearby, saying calming things and helping him come up with the right things to say, too.

  So while part of him still wanted to pummel Grampy for putting him on the spot this way—and he certainly wasn’t going to admit to the old guy that he’d ultimately enjoyed it—he felt . . . what was the right word? Uplifted? Fulfilled?

  Hell, what did the right word matter? And no wonder he didn’t know—he hadn’t exactly spent a lot of time in uplifted or fulfilled territory. So he let it go and when he realized Candy and a few others were starting to clean up, he pitched in, too, collecting some strewn napkins and cups people had left lying on tables and a couple on the ground.

  Candy walked over to say, “You were amazing, Shane.”

  Yet he tried to play if off as nothing. “Just glad it’s over.” Which was true but also partly a fib.

  She just shook her head. “You seriously stunned me. I mean, I thought you’d do okay, but you completely nailed it. You made so many kids so happy today. You should be proud of yourself.”

  The words added to that good feeling inside him, but old habits died hard, so he still only shrugged inside the red suit. “Well, just glad I pulled it off. And glad I was here to pull Grampy’s ass out of the fire on this.” He gave her a wink. Then remembered he was still in the Santa suit and beard and decided maybe it was time to change back into himself. He pointed toward the house. “I’m gonna head in and get out of this thing. I’ll be back in a minute to help out.”

  She smiled. “There’s not much to do. Tidy things up, bring the hot chocolate machines inside, stuff like that. We can come back tomorrow for the big stuff.”

  He nodded, then started toward the cottage, passing by the decorated tree near the gate—though most people had already removed their ornaments to take back home with them and it was barer now. A woman he didn’t know stood next to it, looking at the same little wooden reindeer that had caught his eye earlier.

  Although Shane wasn’t normally outgoing, something about the coincidence—maybe combined with the fact that he’d been forced to be outgoing for the last couple of hours—drew him nearer.

  “That one caught my eye, too,” he said.

  “My son made it,” the woman told him. “Many years ago.” She sounded too wistful for his taste, though, leaving him instantly sorry he’d come over.

  “You did a nice job up there,” she went on. She still looked sad, but like she was trying to turn it around. And despite himself, he appreciated the compliment. Especially from a stranger who had no reason to sugarcoat it.

  And he wasn’t sure why, but it made him want to cheer her up. He’d made all those little kids happy today, after all—maybe it would be just as easy to make this woman happy as well. So he tossed her a grin from behind the beard and said, “What would you like for Christmas?”

  Her caustic laugh caught him off guard. “Oh, no one can bring me what I want. I’m getting married on Christmas Eve and—”

  “Oh, you’re her,” he said. “The lady having the wedding at the church.”

  She nodded. “And that should be enough, right? Having the wedding of my dreams to the most wonderful man in the world. A real, true second shot at happiness I never thought I’d have.” She sighed. “But much as I try to keep my chin up through thick and thin, there’s . . . well, something missing from my Christmas every year, and the same thing’ll be missing from my wedding. Guess I just never really accepted it.” She gave her head a sad little shake.

  Shane felt torn between still wishing he hadn’t started this conversation and wondering what the big thing was that made this woman so downcast even when she should be happy. “What is it?” he asked cautiously. “What’s missing?”

  She looked embarrassed then, lowered her eyes, shook her head once more. “I’m sorry—I don’t even know you and here I am dumping my troubles on you. That’s not my usual way.” Then she lifted her gaze to him again, trying for a smile. “Must be the Santa outfit. Always heard he was in the business of delivering miracles.”

  Shane wasn’t sure what to say, but for Grampy’s sake found himself trying to live up to the suit. Something in the moment—or maybe it was something in this woman’s up-front way and sad eyes—pushed him to it. “Can’t say I know much about miracles, but you can still tell me. If you want.”

  And so she said, “It’s my son. I haven’t seen him since he was nine.”

  Whoa. He had no idea how to respond, absorbing the emotion behind it but not really wanting to, and he was saved when Candy came up then, oblivious to the heavy moment, smiling and introducing them.

  “Oh, I’ve been wanting you two to meet,” she said cheerfully. “Anita, this is Shane. He’s only in town temporarily, but he’s been helping with the repairs at the church.”

  And the woman blinked, her eyes meeting his. Eyes that felt . . . suddenly familiar somehow. Her voice came out hushed, her expression changing as she said, “That’s so funny—Shane was my boy’s name.”

  And her words stole Shane’s breath away.

  Anita. His mother had been named Anita. And yeah, he’d heard this woman referred to as Anita a hundred times in the last few weeks, but it wasn’t an unusual name; there were a million women named Anita; there’d been no reason to think . . . until now.

  No wonder he’d almost recognized—remembered—that damn reindeer ornament.

  No wonder her eyes felt familiar.

  No wonder . . . his father had sent him to Destiny.

  Still being in the Santa suit, his face partially hidden, helped him feel at least a little protected as he soaked in the startling realization. He took in more of her—her face, her clothes, her hair, everything about her. The things that were different, but also the things that had stayed the same.

  This was his mother.

  His mother.

  Who had abandoned him all those years ago.

  Twenty

  “Show me the way. I’m at the end of my rope. Show me the way, God.”

  George Bailey, It’s a Wonderful Life

  Inside, though, he felt shaky, protected or not. Protection, of some kinds anyway, was really just an illusion. A stupid Santa costume couldn’t protect him from the gaping hole inside him that had almost closed up over time but right now felt like it was opening, expanding, swallowing him.

  He didn’t understand. Any of this. How had his father known she was here? Why had he wanted Shane to find her? Why now? And the look on her face, the palpable pain coursing through her. That had made a hell of a lot more sense when he’d thought she was someone else, when he hadn’t known her son was him.

  After all, she’d sent him away, wanted him gone—so why was she mourning the loss this way? Mourning him this way? I’m not dead—I was here, alive and kicking, the whole time, and where were you? The very idea of being valued that way felt so foreign to him, the opposite of what he’d felt his whole life when it came to his mother—was it real? He couldn’t make head nor tail of it.

  How the fuck had this happened? How had he ended up standing here face-to-face with the mother who had rejected him over twenty long years ago? Memories of his childhood with her were vague, like a dream, full of snippets of recollections he didn’t quite know the full truth behind.

  He felt like he was about to explode. And he was on the verge of starting to shake on the outside now, too. He couldn’t be here anymore. He couldn’t.

  So he murmured, “I have to go,” and made a sudden turn to rush away.

  He nearly ran over Candy—damn, that fast he’d somehow forgo
tten she was even there. The whole world had narrowed to him and the stranger who had given birth to him.

  Candy’s eyes widened with the shock of him plowing toward her. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”

  “Maybe I did,” he muttered, then went to move around her, get the hell out of here.

  But that was when a hand closed on his shoulder, spun him around, and he found himself face-to-face with the woman named Anita, his mother, again. God, he couldn’t believe that all this time it had been her wedding he’d been working to save.

  And then her gaze bore into his. And he knew that she’d figured it out, too.

  She looked nervous, shaky, her eyes wide and her lips trembling. “Can I see your face?” The words left her in a raspy whisper.

  But he didn’t make a move, didn’t reply. He didn’t want to show her his face.

  That didn’t stop her, though. She reached up, pulled down the beard. And he felt exposed, more on display than if he’d been naked. It had been a long time, but she would know. She would be able to tell. He knew it to the marrow of his bones.

  “Are you . . . my Shane? Shane Dalton?”

  He heard Candy let out a gasp somewhere behind him. Felt the whole garden go still, the few people still there now tuned in to the tense scene by the gate. He wanted to just sink down into the snow and disappear, end this, not face it.

  And yet he couldn’t. He couldn’t run from this because this woman, his mother, hadn’t let him. Once upon a time she’d pushed him away in the worst way possible—but now she wouldn’t let him go, damn it.

  “How could you?” He’d never planned to say the words, but heard them fall out in a rasp. “How could you?”

  She shook her head helplessly, looking as stunned as he felt. “How could I what?”

  His mouth began to tremble, his chest going hollow. He felt as if he’d walked into someone else’s nightmare. “You sent me away with Dad. You never saw me again. Never even a phone call. Never even a fucking birthday card.” He wanted to shut up now—he didn’t want to be letting any of this out, letting her see that it mattered, that he gave a shit, that it had hurt him in any way. But one more sentence left him—though at least it came out a little more quietly. “You’re my mother and I don’t even know you.”