Blue Sky Cowboy Christmas

by Joanne Kennedy

  “The men’s room?” Riley asked.

  “I’ll check on him,” said a low voice.

  She hadn’t realized Griff had followed and was right behind her.

  “Maybe it’s nerves,” Riley said.

  “No way,” Isaiah said. “My dad—I mean Santa—he’s never nervous.”

  He was probably right. She’d seen Brady ride some mighty tough broncs, and lately he’d played rodeo clown at Wynott Days, facing down angry bulls before they could impale fallen riders on their horns. He’d entertained the crowd by vaulting over their backs or doing handstands on their horns.

  Playing Santa was a whole different ball game, though. Between the kids from Phoenix House and the tough little nuts from the trailer park, he was facing a challenging audience. Bulls might be easier.

  After Griff charged through the restroom door, Isaiah stood nearby, wringing his hands, clearly worried about his dad.

  “Why don’t you go in and check on him, too?” Sierra asked.

  “I can’t,” Isaiah said. “I’m a sympathetic puker. See, if I see somebody throw up, I’m liable to… Oh, no.” He covered his mouth and leaned in to Sierra, sweat forming on his brow.

  “Where’s your mom?” Sierra asked, glancing around for Brady’s wife, Suze.

  “I dunno,” Isaiah moaned. “She went into the cowgirls’ room about the same time. She’s supposed to be putting on her elf costume.”

  “Suze? Elf costume?” Riley’s eyes widened with surprise. Suze normally focused on two things: her family and her barrel racing. She wasn’t supersociable like Brady.

  “She wasn’t too happy about it, but Dad said he wouldn’t do it ’less she helped,” Isaiah said. “She’s been in there an awful long time, though. Probably embarrassed to come out. Unless…”

  Sierra took him by the shoulders. “Unless what?”

  “Well, they both ate some chicken salad when we first got here. Suze says it might’ve been in Mrs. Carson’s car too long, but she and Dad ate it to be polite.” He thumbed toward his own narrow chest. “I’m not polite,” he said. “So I’m not puking.” He glanced toward the men’s room as the unmistakable sound of retching grew louder and frowned. “Yet.”

  Riley and Sierra shared a glance, then slipped into the women’s room. Sure enough, the sounds of a stomach in full revolt emanated from a closed stall door.

  “Suze?” Sierra called. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m dying,” came a faint voice from the stall. “Here.” She slid a plastic grocery bag under the door. “That’s the elf costume. Somebody else is gonna have to help Brady.”

  “You’ve got that right,” Sierra said. “He’s throwing up, too.”

  “Oh, no.” The door cracked open, and Suze poked her head out, looking like a zombie version of her healthy, athletic self. She wasn’t the type to fuss about her appearance, but she was sweating profusely and her hair hung lank around her pale face. “Can you do it?”

  Sierra shook her head. “I’ve got the boys. But Riley…”

  Riley backed away, lifting her hands to ward off the bag Sierra was holding out. “Oh, no. I’m not the elfin type, okay?”

  “Nonsense,” Sierra said. “Who’s always complaining people say she looks like a fairy? You’ll be perfect.”

  Riley looked down at the cheap, tattered velvet elf suit, then back up at Sierra, who gave her a pleading look.

  “The kids need this,” she said. “I need this.”

  Riley sighed. Sierra knew just what buttons to push.

  “Okay. But somebody better step up and be a really good Santa, because an elf can’t carry Christmas on her own.”

  * * *

  Griff stood at the men’s room sink, listening as Brady Caine emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet.

  “You think you’re going to be okay, buddy?”

  “First kid that bounces on my lap is going to get a dose of half-digested chicken salad.” Brady retched again and moaned. “There’s almonds in it. They hurt coming up.”

  Griff blanched. “Are your brothers around?”

  “Ridge is helping Sierra with the kids.” Brady staggered out of the stall, snatching a paper towel and wiping his face. “Shane isn’t coming ’til later, plus he’s got Cody. That kid still believes, and he’d recognize his dad for sure.” Brady nodded toward the Santa suit, which hung on a hook behind the stall door. “It’s gotta be you, bro, and it’s gotta be now. We don’t have time to mess around. The longer those kids wait, the crazier they get. You’ll have a full-on riot pretty soon.”

  Griff eyed the suit. “Probably won’t fit me,” he said. “I’ll check around. There’s gotta be somebody.”

  He stepped out of the men’s room as Brady raced into the stall to start another round of retching and almost ran over a svelte, silver-haired elf who was standing in the vestibule between the restrooms. He couldn’t help admiring the way Santa’s slender helper filled out her soft green suit or the shapely legs that disappeared into her pointy shoes. When she turned and fixed wide, other-worldly eyes on him, a shiver raced along his spine, as if he’d actually happened on a being from some magical land.

  Riley had been born for this.

  Slumping back against the wall, she frowned. “Shit,” she said.

  Well, that wasn’t very elfin. But even with the illusion shattered, she looked good in that suit.

  “What are we gonna do?” She glanced over at the Christmas tree, where Sierra was leading the kids in a carol. “Those kids look forward to this all year.” Her pale eyes glistened. “Some club in Denver put on a Christmas party when I was in foster care, and I swear it was the highlight of my childhood. Santa Claus was there, and I thought he’d come straight from the North Pole.” She smiled sadly. “He was probably just some reluctant volunteer in a smelly old costume. It was the wonder that made it work. The way kids see things—that’s the magic.”

  Griff pictured little-girl Riley, her eyes wide with wonder, her heart still tender with hope.

  He sighed. “I’ll see if the suit fits.”

  “You will?” She looked up at him, her eyes shining, and for the first time in forever, he felt like a genuine hero.

  “I’m not sure I’ll be any good,” he said. “I’m not really the Santa type.”

  “It’ll be fine,” Riley said. “It’s just acting, and you’ve only got one line.”

  He wrinkled his forehead, feeling stupid.

  “Ho, ho, ho,” she said, poking his chest with each repetition. “How hard can it be?”

  Matt hurried up to them. “Heard what happened. You stepping up, Griff?” Playfully, he poked Griff’s stomach. “You’ve got the size, all right.”

  “Hey, you’d be better,” Griff said.

  “Nope.” Matt waved a cowboy hat with antlers stitched to the sides and tossed a red rubber ball in his other hand. “I can be Rudolph for you, but I can’t serve and protect in a Santa suit.” He grew serious. “This party’s fun, but there’s always a lot of drinking. I’m liable to have to break up a fight, so it’s all you, my friend.” Putting an arm around Griff’s shoulders, Matt pulled him aside and lowered his voice. “Hey, Fawn can’t psychoanalyze you when you’re in a crowd of kids. And did you see that elf?” He shoved Griff toward the men’s room. “I’ll get the two of you out the back door so you can make your entrance, okay?”

  “Okay,” Griff grumbled. But Riley smiled, and a flood of warmth filled his heart. Was it love or Christmas spirit? He wasn’t sure, but it came with a shot of courage that helped him through the door marked Cowboys, vowing that he and Riley would give the kids a Christmas they’d never forget.

  Chapter 36

  Ed had ransacked his entire hospital room by the time Trevor returned, but his clothes were nowhere to be found. His sisters must have taken them, leaving him trapped in the ridiculous blue
cotton hospital gown. It had blue flowers on it and no back.

  “Just act like we know where we’re going,” he said as he shuffled down the hallway with Trevor in close pursuit.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Home. But if they ask, I want to see the fish tank in the main lobby.”

  Trevor nodded. “Sure, Unk.”

  “And for God’s sake, help me hold onto the back of this danged dress.” Ed reached back and struggled to pinch the back of his gown closed. “My whole backside’s hanging out.”

  They headed down the hall, moving as fast as Ed could manage. Just hours before, he’d been too weak to get out of bed, but his adrenaline was pumping and he felt like a new man, probably because he had a purpose. He was going to find Riley and make everything right for her. No matter what it took, he wasn’t going to let his sisters chase off the little girl who’d done so much for him and for his Ruth.

  He and Ruth had always talked about having a family, but those dreams had never come true. They’d never found out where the problem lay—with him or with her—but they’d agreed they didn’t need to know. God hadn’t seen fit to give them children, and they’d had to accept that back then. They’d sent money every month to three children overseas, paying for food and schooling for kids who couldn’t afford it, but it wasn’t until Riley came that they got their little girl.

  He smiled. He’d never call Riley a little girl to her face, but that was what she was—their sassy, stand-up, independent, tattooed cuss of a little girl. She wasn’t what they’d expected, but she’d turned out to be as fine a human being as anyone he knew, and he was proud of her. Ruth had been, too, and it would have broken her heart to see how his sisters treated her.

  Not that she’d have been surprised. Carol and Diane hadn’t liked her, either.

  Nurses stopped him and Trevor several times, and once a busy doctor eyed them through half-glasses with a frown and asked where they were going. Each time, the fish-tank lie worked perfectly, but when they passed it and headed for the parking garage where Trevor had parked Ed’s truck, there were no more excuses.

  “Stay here, Unk,” Trevor said as they entered the cold, grimy parking garage. “Right in front of this car. Crouch down some so nobody sees you, and I’ll get the truck.”

  Ed crouched, praying nobody would drive by. His billowing cotton gown would fairly glow in the darkness of the parking garage, not to mention the full moon hanging out the back.

  Hiding by the bumper of a full-sized Chevy van, he thought about his mission. Finding Riley was number one. Well, actually, finding some clothes was number one. But after that, things were going to be complicated—and hard. Ed was going to have to stand up—for himself, for Riley, and for what was right.

  Finally, Trevor pulled up in the truck. Ed toddled out from behind the SUV, gown flapping, and climbed in.

  “Thanks, Son,” he said.

  But although he was grateful to Trevor for executing his escape plan, the boy had to come second to Riley. It was good to see the boy stepping up, but that didn’t mean Ed wasn’t going to throw the kid out of Riley’s apartment the minute they got home. That was Riley’s home, and he never should have let her leave.

  It was a long drive. Trevor offered to stop at a Walmart and pick up some pants and a shirt, but Ed wanted to get to his own place and wear his own Wranglers. Getting Riley back into his life would mean a confrontation with his sisters, and he didn’t want to face them in polyester pants.

  When they passed the Red Dawg, the parking lot was packed with every sort of vehicle, from gigantic ranch trucks to the seventies sedans some of the old folks drove.

  “It’s the Saturday before Christmas, isn’t it? There’s a party at the Dawg tonight.”

  Trevor nodded. “Yeah, the band I manage is playing it.”

  “You manage a band?”

  “The Iron Kings. They’re really going places, Unk.”

  “Hope they know some Christmas carols.”

  Trevor looked worried. “They said they’d learn some.”

  Ed opened his door the minute Trevor pulled into a parking space. As soon as he stepped out, the wind caught his gown and dang near ripped it off. He clutched it around himself and shuffled to the back door.

  “Um, do you think you’ll be okay on your own?” Trevor gestured toward the bar. “I’m supposed to be helping the band set up.”

  Ed sighed. Trevor was a disappointment after all. He could at least make sure his uncle got inside.

  “It’s a responsibility, Unk,” the boy said. “They’re depending on me.”

  “All right.”

  Ed stepped inside, looking forward to wearing real pants. Then he’d head to the party and watch Trevor’s band. He had no doubt that was where Riley was.

  And wouldn’t she be surprised to see him?

  * * *

  Riley staggered backward when Santa stepped out of the men’s room. The moth-eaten suit was stretched across his broad shoulders, but the lower hem hung loose over his slim hips.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked.

  She laughed, shaking her head. “It’s unnerving, that’s all. I’m having X-rated Santa fantasies.”

  For heaven’s sake, don’t tell him. You promised Fawn.

  Matt, obviously immune to the fantasies, eyed him critically. “You need a pillow. Santa’s supposed to have a belly.”

  “I know, but the one they gave me is too big. It won’t fit,” Griff said.

  “We’ll fix it.” Riley shoved him into the men’s room and grabbed the pillow he’d left on the counter. “Hold on.” Ripping the stitching at one end, she began tearing out handfuls of puffy white down. When it was about half-full, she handed it back to Griff. He shoved it up the suit, then stood sideways so she could admire his silhouette.

  Riley grinned. “That should slow down the fantasies a bit.”

  “Really?”

  “No.” She shook her head, smiling down at the floor. “Not really.”

  When she looked up, meeting his eyes, she couldn’t breathe. Their memories of those nights they’d spent together hung in the air between them, heating it, pulling them together.

  You promised.

  Quickly, she looked away. “Hey, did anybody ask Fawn to be the elf? She might want to do it.”

  “Too late,” Griff said. “Those kids can’t wait much longer. Besides, you’re perfect.” She looked up in time to see his eyes soften. “Perfect.”

  Isaiah stuck his head into the room. “Is my dad okay?” He glanced around at the mounds of white feathers scattered around the room. “Whoa,” he said. “What happened? Looks like an angel exploded in here.”

  “Yeah, and it’s a shame.” Brady was leaning against the counter, and while he was no longer vomiting, he looked a bit green. Still, he managed a smile. “She was bringing glad tidings.”

  “That’s what angels do,” said Isaiah.

  Riley and Griff laughed, and when she smiled up into his eyes, they were suddenly a team. And that was okay, she told herself. He was Santa and she was an elf, so when he put an arm around her, she sighed and let it stay.

  Perfect.

  “Okay.” Matt was in full law-enforcement mode, which made Riley giggle because he was wearing the absurd antlered hat and had the red ball stuck on his nose. “We’ll get you two outside. There’s that sort of sled thing, remember? With wheels and that old Chevy bench seat on the back? You’ll ride in on that—I’ll pull, being Rudolph—and when I shake the jingle bells, I want to hear some ho-ho-ho-ing, bud.” He grinned at Griff, then tweaked Riley’s elf hat, making the little bell on the tip ring. “And Griff, try to look jolly, okay? You give those kids your usual look, you’ll scar them for life.”

  Chapter 37

  As the sleigh wobbled its way into the Dawg, Riley fell against Griff. He held her against h
im, and she let him, because holy cats, where had all those kids come from? The crowd had seemed manageable when she and Isaiah and Sierra had divided them up in groups, putting older boys in charge of various games and activities, but now they were a sea of faces—expectant faces, looking to Griff and Riley for…for what?

  For presents, sure, but when she scanned their expressions Riley didn’t see greed. She saw wonder and hope and a longing for the magic of Christmas to be real. They were counting on her and Griff to make it so.

  “Ho, ho, ho.” The voice behind her was so hearty and, well, jolly that she had to look back and make sure Santa himself hadn’t shown up. But it was still Griff, and as he belted out another round, he winked, then bent and whispered in her ear. “Look at them. They think we’re real. They think we’re magic.”

  Riley thought they might be right. She sure felt magic. And what else would explain how good Griff looked with a pillowy belly and dirty cotton beard?

  Matt pulled the sleigh up to the Christmas tree, then stepped aside as a burst of static sounded from his hip. “Shoot,” he muttered, then grinned and waved at the kids. “Rudolph’s gotta go. See you later!” He made a weird neighing noise that made everyone laugh and galloped out the door, his boots clippity-clopping across the wooden floor.

  Once they were inside, Griff settled into a red wing chair that had been decorated as Santa’s throne. Standing beside him, Riley was almost as filled with wonder as the kids to see her grim, dark-eyed soldier become a real Santa before her eyes. He was jolly and kind, bouncing kids on his lap and making them smile, promising he’d try to give them what they wanted, reminding them to be good to their parents and do well in school. Every now and then, he’d glance at her and wink.

  It wasn’t always easy to smile, though. So many kids asked for things no Santa could ever give, like for Daddy to come back from the war or for Mom to return from wherever she’d gone when she’d run off with some other man. One wished he could be good so his dad wouldn’t hit him anymore, and Riley memorized the innocent face so she could tell Sierra and Matt about it later.