by J L Gillham
“Yeah, if he gets grumpy, just give him some candy. It’s the fastest way to his heart,” I say.
A loud clang sounds to our left. Finn and I turn and discover the crash came from a dropped plate that shattered on impact.
“Got it!” Aurora shouts as she runs over with a dustpan. “I’ll get you a new one,” she says to the little girl with black hair holding a stuffed animal. As soon as Aurora’s done sweeping, she races toward the kitchen.
“So, tell me the real reason you left today” Finn says, without a hint of disapproval in his tone.
I glance at Finn who is still staring at me. Here I am again exactly one year after my birthday party. The boy I’ve been crushing on is before me. I have the opportunity to share my secrets. Last time I did, and I regretted it. I don’t know if I can take that chance again, even if he’s seemed to have grown in trustworthiness during the last twelve months.
I clutch the mug of apple cider, drawing warmth and courage from the cup. I take a breath and speak up before my fears get the better of me. “The day we went to the beach you mentioned passion and sacrifice...” The statement sounds more like a question than I intended.
He nods, but doesn’t speak. I take a tentative sip, and then a gulp as I realize the drink won’t scald my mouth. I place the drink back on the table, but I continue holding it. I can’t bring myself to unlock the cell that holds my desires and fears. Last time I did, I cracked the small snow globe in my bag.
I'm about to tell him it's no big deal. I just needed a break and will be heading home after my meal. But as I stare into his eyes, those aren't the words that tumble out of my mouth.
Lowering my shoulders, I go with my heart’s cry instead of my rational mind. “What if the sacrifice is too great?” My eyes flicker left then right as I make sure no eavesdroppers listen in on our conversation.
“Noelle,” Finn says at a normal level.
I continue scanning the diner, giving Finn only half my attention.
“Noelle,” Finn says again.
This time I face him. When I meet his eyes, they are filled with nothing but compassion and understanding. My chin quivers, and it’s as if suddenly we are the only two people in the room. And what he says next shocks me into silence.
“How about some company on your jailbreak?” Finn shrugs and although I can tell he’s feigning nonchalance, out of the corner of my eye I see him rapidly tapping his foot on the ground.
“Here ya go, hon.” The waitress plops down my plate of sushi. “And how do you want to earn your meal?”
And then I remember today’s unusual form of payment for food. I’m about to say washing dishes when Finn speaks up. “She’ll sing.”
“What?” I ask, looking from the waitress to Finn. His foot has stopped moving and the casual expression he usually wears is back in place. I stare at Finn, willing him to shoo away the waitress and go back to our conversation.
“Got a singer over here!” the waitress yells and waves to someone crammed in the back corner of the diner. Just then I see the person is a deejay, surrounded by his equipment.
“Ladies and gentlemen, next up we have a singer named...” The deejay glances left and right, trying to get a glimpse of me.
“Princess Claus!” Finn shouts.
I shake my head and put my hands on my hips. “No way.” With a look around, I see all eyes are on me, and more than a few jaws are dropped. I shrink down in my seat, realizing all the people here have heard of me, but most probably haven’t ever seen me before.
“Hooray, a song!” shouts the little girl who dropped the plate earlier. Finn gives her a nod. She hops up from her chair, races toward me, then leads me to a spot that’s open in front of the deejay booth.
“My name is Carly, Princess Claus,” the little girl says as we walk.
“I remember you,” I answer, letting a smile fill my face. “You gave me the beautiful decoration with the mittens that is still on my bedroom door.”
Carly beams and opens her mouth to speak, but the deejay interrupts her.
“What’ll you sing for us this Christmas Eve morning?” the deejay asks after pulling his headphones off.
“Um,” I hesitate, looking around now that I’ve made it to the spot in front of the deejay. Unfortunately, all eyes are on me. I blurt out the first song that comes to mind. “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.”
“How about a Christmas song?” Carly is tugging on my shirt. Then she plops down on the floor a few feet away and stares up at me.
I wrack my brain for Christmas songs. When that’s all you hear year-round, you’d think it’d be easy to come up with even one. But as my nerves soar, my mental capacity sinks.
“Jingle Bells,” Carly mouths in front of me.
“Jingle Bells.” I face the deejay. He nods, and within a few seconds, the music begins playing. I suck in a deep breath, realizing although I have a passion for singing, I don’t have a passion for performing—at least, not that I know of. This is the first time I’ve allowed anyone to hear me sing. My nerves race until I get a glance of Carly’s wide grin. After a deep breath, I begin singing.
“Dashing through the snow in a one-horse open sleigh. O’er the fields we go laughing all the way.” As I continue the lines, I see Carly mouthing the entire song. I motion for her to join me. Her eyes widen, and she shakes her head back and forth. I take one step toward her and pause. Her mouth drops open, and she covers her face with her hands. I take a second step in her direction and continue singing as I crouch down to her level.
When I get to the chorus, I stop singing and place the microphone before her. She peeks through her laced fingers. The music continues even though it’s missing the lyrical part. I watch as she begins bobbing up and down, then humming, and finally singing.
Once she’s begun adding her voice to the melody, I join in again. Though our two voices clash more than blend we finish the chorus together. “Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way. Oh what fun it is to ride in a one-horse open sleigh.”
As the song ends, I take a deep breath. Before I have a chance to hand the microphone back to the deejay, he puts on the song “Here Comes Santa Claus.”
By this time, most of the patrons have joined in. Finn pulls up a chair and motions for me to sit in it. Then a gaggle of kids form a line with Carly at the front. One by one they sit on my lap, but instead of telling me their wish list, they sing a small part of the song.
As soon as one song line is done, the current kid jumps up, scurries away, and the next has a turn. It takes two rounds of the song before I’ve gotten through each kid.
To my relief, once we finish “Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer” Aurora comes up to announce they are out of sushi. I wave to each of the kids as I pass them by on my way back to my seat.
However, Aurora then turns to the deejay. She whispers something to him that the microphone doesn’t pick up. I cock one eyebrow in confusion as I take my seat back at my table.
“Noelle, we’d like to sing you a special song.” There is a tinge of mischief in Aurora’s expression.
Before I have a chance to wonder which Christmas song it will be, Aurora begins singing the “Happy Birthday” song. In my haste to flee this morning, I completely forgot about it being my seventeenth birthday. Others join in, and eventually it seems like the entire diner is staring at me. All have similar expressions of joy on their faces. Some raise a glass to me. When I make eye contact with Carly, she waves.
Finn approaches the table. As he lowers a plate on the table, I see it has a s’more on it. There is a lit candle in the extra marshmallow on top. I suck in a deep breath and exhale. After blowing out the candle, I say, “Thank you.” Then I slump down in my seat, ready for the attention to go elsewhere.
I chug my apple cider. Finn places a glass of water before me, then sits down. He lets loose a grin that fills his face. “You certainly earned breakfast this morning singing.”
I look down to see I haven’t had one bite of
sushi yet. “What about you?” I ask, stalling. The last thing I need is a sesame seed stuck in my teeth as I talk. Then the image of chocolate from the desert covering my face comes to mind. Maybe I should skip this birthday breakfast all together.
“I just finished a blueberry muffin. I’ll have a quick snack if things ever slow down,” Finn pauses, then adds, “so you should dig in.”
I can’t help myself and sneak a quick peek at Finn. He pulls out of his back pocket what looks like a stack of folded paper. Instead of putting it on the table, he places it on his lap, out of my sight. Then he picks up the menu and appears to be reading it.
What’s the thing on his lap? Is it another way of avoiding going back to our earlier conversation? Was he serious about joining me to travel the world?
I push around the food on my plate with my fork. Maybe for Christmas I’ll have to see if I can find any chopsticks back at home to deliver to the diner tonight. My shoulders tense, and I press my lips together when I remember I won’t be the one delivering any gifts this holiday season. My elation from minutes ago fizzles like snow thrown on top of a firecracker.
Will my parents be upset when they realize I’ve forced Dad’s hand? Surely, he’ll let Nicky deliver gifts with him now, won’t he? Instead of lingering on guilt and questions, I give the approaching pair my undivided attention, grateful for the distraction.
Carly and her grandmother I met last year at my birthday party approach the table. Both have matching hazel eyes. The older of the two has gray hair that hangs almost to her knees. “Sorry to bother you, but I wanted to ask how your mother is doing.”
The question catches me off guard. “My mother?” I don’t bother to keep out the confusion from my tone. Is there something this woman knows about Mom that I don’t?
“Yes, you see it’s been so long since we’ve talked. I didn’t get a chance to at your party last year.” She gets a pensive look on her face. “Now, how long has it been since before that?”
She looks at me as she answers her own question. “Eighteen years. It was the day of your father’s coronation. Oh, and of course your parents’ wedding day.”
“What?” I blurt out, without trying to hide my surprise at this knowledge. My parents always celebrate their wedding anniversary on December 27th. I assumed that was their wedding day, but was I wrong?
Maybe they wanted to wait until the stress of Christmas was over. Had they ever told me they married on Christmas Eve? I’m guessing yes, but most likely it was a detail I wasn’t interested in. Until now.
Why wouldn’t they wait until after Christmas to marry? Surely Mom didn’t like having her wedding celebration overshadowed by Dad’s coronation and, a year later, my birthday.
“Oh, Princess Claus. Can I come to your coronation today? I promise I’ll be good.” Carly clasps her hands together and looks at me pleadingly.
I open my mouth, but no words form.
Her grandmother places a hand on Carly’s shoulder. “Sorry. Only family is allowed at the coronation. Back when your parents were married, they had the wedding after the coronation. That’s when all the townspeople showed.”
I nod. Yep, just the family and elves. But this time also minus me, the next Santa.
“But, why don’t you invite everyone?” Carly asks, not satisfied with her grandmother’s answer.
I bite my lip. Do I tell her about the evil elf, the reason we hardly ever let anyone into Winter Wonderland? Not wanting to scare her with the revelation of a person so intent on ruining Christmas, I shrug.
“The coronation is part of the secret magic of Santa,” Finn says. “Sometimes not knowing how everything works makes it more of a surprise, more magical.”
I’m grateful for his quick thinking.
Carly looks over to her grandmother. I watch as the grandmother nods her head. “Oh, right,” Carly says. She gives me a hug. Then without a word, she places an extra-large blue and white candy cane on the table. “You’re going to make the best Santa ever,” she says, and then leaves with her grandmother before I have a chance to respond.
I stare at the treat, then put it in my pants pocket. It’ll be a great reward for Tiny for pulling the sleigh today. And boy, has he earned it.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
“You were great up there.” Finn’s staring at me.
I bite my lip and hope my cheeks don’t flare up. For so long, I’d always thought of Finn as a copy of my brother—two boys who both excelled at teasing. But now I’m not sure. There was still the teasing. But at what point had my annoyance at him morphed into delight?
“Not just your voice, either. I mean you could be a professional singer.” Finn laces his hands together, then places them behind his head and leans back.
“You really think so?” I lean toward him.
“Of course. But it’s not just that. You have a natural gift. It’s like when you sing you invite the entire world in and hold nothing back.” He looks away as if imagining something. If only he knew how right he is. It was the holding nothing back part, the scream of sixteen years of anger that started this whole mess in the first place. But, that’s not what I say.
“There's nothing in the world that brings me more joy than singing.” I look over to Carly. She claps her hands together as a giant plate of pancakes is placed before her on the table. My stomach rumbles. Instantly, I place my hand over my belly in hopes of blocking the sound.
“I’d better go check on the kitchen.” Finn rises. The papers on his lap fall to the ground. He snatches them up and hurries off before I can get a good look at them. Maybe they are just a batch of recipes.
I am unsure if he heard my stomach and decided to let me eat in peace, but I am glad he left either way. Chatting with him is too much of a distraction. I begin eating my sushi.
Lingering in town so close to home isn’t a great idea. I can imagine Dad throwing the door to the diner open and dragging me back to Winter Wonderland. I chuckle at the thought. More likely Dad would open the door slowly, make small talk with the townspeople, then casually walk toward me. Without a word, he’d stand before me and stare until I followed him home.
Not today, Dad. I make it through the sushi when fullness settles in. After sliding the plate and the untouched dessert to the side of the table, I put my go-bag before me and empty it.
There are necessities like my toothbrush and cherry-flavored lip balm. But there are also little things I couldn’t leave behind like my favorite blue and silver scarf that Grandma Carol knit me.
Then there’s the box still taking up the lower half my bag. Inside it is the tiara Mom made me when I was nine. I’d borrowed hers and dropped it. Instead of scolding me, she let me help her fix it. Then for my tenth birthday, she gave me one she made herself. She called it a placeholder, one to wear until I was old enough to be given one with real jewels.
There is no way I could leave that behind. The simple design of plastic red berries, green leaves, and scattered white crystals woven in. It didn’t matter the crystals weren’t diamonds. The tiara was more precious to me than anything else I owned. And, I didn’t leave it. I took everything I love, but left my devastation behind for others to fix.
I remove the box containing the snow globe, but don’t open it. Yesterday, when I used it to walk through the magical barrier outside the ice caves, the cracks completely covered the glass. When I left Winter Wonderland this morning, the web-like tendrils laced from the top of the dome down toward the bottom, but stopped about seventy-five percent of the way. At least I’ve figured out whatever happens to the miniature snow globe, the same will happen to the magical dome a couple days later.
“How’s Nicky doing?” Finn asks as he takes the seat across from me.
Before I answer, I run my tongue over my teeth. No sesame seeds detected. “Obnoxious as always.”
Finn chuckles. “I’m sure. But, how’s his foot?”
“It’ll be a few more days...” I don’t finish my sentence when I realize my error.
Dad planned on taking me to deliver gifts tonight. I just assumed Nicky would join him since I’m gone. But if Nicky’s still injured, he can’t help.
I sit up straight. “A few more days until he’s all better.” I finish forcing a confident voice. Dad’s been the lone Santa ever since he started two decades ago. Nicky can join him next year.
Fear flickers in my mind as I remember how frequent Dad’s headaches have become. What if he can’t handle another year by himself? I glance at the door.
Now is when I need to find out if Finn was serious about joining me. The thought of not being along on my travels is comforting. The thought of Finn being the reason I’m not alone is terrifying and exhilarating.
“I have a not-so-tiny favor to ask,” I say, then bite my lip.
Finn looks at me. “Anything for the birthday girl.” He continues drinking.
I nod and take a deep breath. Then I plan what I’ll say to Finn once I’ve gathered my courage. I decide to ask him to have his sister ride behind him on her own snowmobile. That way Finn could take Tiny back for me on my sleigh, then ride home with Aurora.
Either Finn will ask to go with me again, letting me know he meant it, or he won’t bring it up. Then I’ll have as much time as I need to deal with the disappointment once I’m out of his sight.
I freeze, unsure if I should hurry home or stick to my plan of finding the airport. But the thought of returning to Winter Wonderland paralyzes me. I can’t live my life a caged bird. It’s time to fly.
However, there’s one more thing I should do. I start fishing around in my go-bag for a pen to scribble a note for my parents. Just then, a loud laugh carries over the chatter of the crowd. I recognize it instantly as Aurora’s. I am shocked when I see her hand on the shoulder of a teenager. Then I recognize Dirk from when he played snowball soccer with Nicky a few days ago.
Aurora leans in and whispers something to him. Suddenly he pops up from his chair and picks her up, raising her in the air. She squeals to be put down, but her tone hints that’s the last thing she wants. When he finally lowers her, she simply laughs, then resumes chatting.