Believe (4 page)

Trying a different tactic, I say, “You really like this Santa thing, huh?”

“Love it. There's nothing better than seeing kids light up when they get to meet me—I mean Santa. You know what I mean.”

“More than you know,” I mutter. Taking a deep breath I say, “So you'd think it was fun if you could be Santa all the time right?”

Nick's expression remains amused, but I see confusion in his eyes and something else I can't put my finger on. “Sure, it'd be great to be Santa year round.”

I know he's mocking me. Every time I look into his eyes my brain turns mushy. Not once have I ever experienced anything like this. He must have some ability from his parents that I'm not aware of, some way of melting people's thoughts. Does he know who I am? Was the other look in his eyes recognition?

My brain tries to turn the concept into a solid thought, but I make the mistake of looking back at Nick. This little Santa house suddenly feels very claustrophobic. I take a few steps forward, determined to say what needs to be said.

“You have to marry me.” My fists curl into balls at my sides as flames of embarrassment shoot through my body.

All amusement leaves Nick's face. He frowns at me but doesn't move. “Look, I don't know what kind of joke this is, but I think it's time for you to leave.”

“No, wait, I…” I take another step forward. None of this is coming out the way I want it too. How can I explain this to him? No one has given me any guidance. I feel my skirt snag on a branch from the fake Christmas tree. Before I know what's happening, I fly forward landing squarely on Nick's lap.

He catches me, pulls me calmly down on one knee, and looks directly into my eyes. “What is it that you really want?”

The question hangs between us. I'm struggling with what to say when there's a knock at the door. A teenage elf girl pokes her head through and gasps.

When she recovers she says, “You're holding up the line.”

I scramble off Nick's lap, where I'm barely perched, and flee out the exit door. That went spectacularly wrong. I've humiliated myself. And I've failed. What are the elf elders going to do to me? I shiver, trying to stave off the fear by thinking of anything else. Unfortunately my thoughts slide to the deep blue of Nick's eyes and the joyful laugh that made me want to believe in him. Believe in him as Santa. I stop mid-stride on a sidewalk filled with kids, my mini-epiphany of little concern to them. What am I going to do now?

 

“Rise and shine, darling.”

I moan into my pillow. Gran's voice infiltrates a lovely dream in which I don't humiliate myself in front of Nick. I groan again and pull the pillow over my head. Nothing blocks out the fact that I told him he needed to marry me. I squirm at the memory. Why can't I get it out of my head?

Trying to continue sleeping seems futile, so I push myself up from the bed and peer around the room. I hadn't paid much attention yesterday when I barely had time to collect my thoughts and dress myself for the big meeting.

To my disgust, the whole room is decked out for Christmas. Garland and lights are strung around the ceiling. Snow globes dot every available surface. A mini Christmas tree stands at attention next to the door, which is slightly ajar. From the kitchen downstairs, warm, drowsy smells of pancakes and bacon drift in, and Gran hums along to Christmas music on the radio. I imagine this would have made me love the holiday as a little girl. Unfortunately at eighteen I'm far too old for this nonsense.

I need to figure out my game plan. Nick thinks I'm crazy. He's not going to forget any time soon.

As I pull on jeans and a sweater, I finally let myself think about the flash of attraction I'd felt when I met Nick last night. Even in his ridiculous get-up, he was easily the most handsome guy I've ever met. And despite what it might seem, I didn't lead the most sheltered life ever. I've met other guys. Most of them with some immortal or mythical tie, but still...

A shiver whispers along my spine.

Brushing my hair into a ponytail with my fingers, I hurry downstairs to get some of the delicious smelling breakfast before my stomach gnaws itself to oblivion.

"I've arranged some activities for you this week," Gran says and sets a plate of food in front of me.

I tuck into the pancakes before giving her a suspicious look. "What do you mean?"

"Don't talk with your mouth full." The chide sounds stern, but Gran smiles as she says it. "Oh, you know, just some quality time with Nick."

"What?" I spray a mouthful of food across the table. Grabbing a napkin, I begin to clean up the mess, but right now I don't have time to dwell on how gross I am. "You can't be serious. Gran. You know how big I messed up our meeting last night. Nick thinks I'm crazy."

Gran laughs. "Perhaps. But it's your task to change his mind. You have to convince him of the impossible."

I sigh. "What makes you think he'll even agree to spend five minutes with me?"

"Well, Nick's foster parents and I have had this time planned almost since Nick was a baby. None of this is a coincidence. I live here to keep an eye on Nick. We've always known this day would come, and that the two of you would need a lot of help." Gran sits down at the table across from me with her steaming mug of coffee.

I stare at the coffee, feeling a mixture of confusion and relief. My mother drinks nothing but hot chocolate. And as good as the hot chocolate at the North Pole is, there's only so much a person can drink before it makes you want to gag. For the longest time I've been obsessed with flavored coffee. I sneak it whenever I can.

My assumption would have been that as the former Mrs. Claus, Gran would always continue the traditions she'd lived with. But if she has made the shift to coffee, maybe I have some hope after all.

I feel the heat of embarrassment coloring my cheeks as I realize how silly these musings are. Luckily if Gran has noticed she doesn't comment.

With a big swallow of orange juice, I force myself to deal with my reality. "Okay, so when do I start hanging out with Nick?"

Gran checks her watch. "Oh, I'd say you have a good fifteen minutes or so before he gets here."

I choke on my orange juice. As I splutter and cough, Gran begins to clear the table of our breakfast dishes. She begins to wash them, humming along to the radio once again. The carols have once again become background noise that doesn't make me want to claw out my eardrums.

The phone rings as I'm contemplating a change of clothes.

“Could you get that, Virginia dear?”

I listen to the slosh of water for a whole beat before hurrying to get the phone. Gran has an old rotary phone, although I had seen her tapping away on a Blackberry last night when she thought no one was watching. Lifting the receiver, I'm happy to have the heft of it in my hand.

“Hello?”

“Is this Virginia?”

I recognize Nick's voice immediately and I feel myself melt into a puddle. His voice sounds rich and warm, just like his laugh.

Somehow I manage to follow Nick through a conversation about changing our plans without embarrassing myself. He says he'll pick me up in the late afternoon. When we hang up, I sink down to the floor because my knees won't hold me up any longer. What is wrong with me?

My day muddles along slowly. I spend time watching game shows and petting Gran's cat. There are several times when I catch myself nodding off. By four o'clock, I'm ready to go. I pull on my parka and wait on the porch for Nick to arrive. Gran tries to hide her smirk as I slip out the door. Who cares if I seem over eager? I'm totally not. I don't want to spend time with the guy I'm being forced to marry. And that I have to convince of this fact. I'm just bored. That's all.

I mean, spending time with a guy as gorgeous as Nick isn't exactly a punishment, and as I'd pondered my situation all day, I'd realized that I need to try to explain the situation to him in a calm, concise manner. The facts remain clear. Nick loves playing Santa. I hope that he'll decide he wants the job full-time once he opens his mind to the fact that Santa is indeed real.

Maybe Nick will make an actual good Santa, not like my dad. I want to ask Gran when my dad started down the road of anger and corruption. Once I heard some elves talking about how he gets kickbacks from the major toy manufacturers. I've never been able to puzzle out how that works, but when I heard that morsel of information, my respect dropped to a new all time low.

Nick pulls up in a modest pickup truck. He hops out of the cab and waves cheerfully to me as I hurry down the steps. He rounds the front of the truck and opens the passenger door for me. I climb in feeling awkward and tongue-tied. Even though I want to say something, words fail me.

We drive in silence until we reach the edge of town. Nick clears his throat and I risk a glance over at him.

"I'm sorry I had to cancel earlier." Nick taps his fingers rhythmically on the steering wheel, staring at the traffic light.

"You didn't cancel. You rescheduled. There's a difference." I surprise myself by talking. What am I saying? I might be talking, but I can't concentrate.

I sneak a glance over at Nick. He's still staring at the traffic light, a small smile playing on his lips.

“So, um, where are we going?” I pull my hands into the sleeves of my coat and fuss with the fuzzy cuffs. Anything to keep me from focusing on the memory of last night.

“Well, I thought it would be fun to go ice skating with some of my friends.” He looks over at me with the corner of his mouth quirked up slightly. “But first I need to head over to the food pantry and help serve dinner. You don't mind, do you?”

“Serving dinner or ice skating?” The words come out snarkier than I intend. I'm fine serving dinner at the food pantry. That seems authentic. The ice skating has Gran written all over it.

A frown wrinkles Nick's forehead. “You don't have to come in if you're going to be like that.”

“What?” Why is he so angry? Oh. I guess he really does think the worst of me. Great. “No, the food pantry sounds great. I just…the ice skating. It's just…” I flounder for an explanation.

“Oh, sorry.” Nick pulls into a parking place in front of an unassuming little building.

Before we get out of the car, I decide to take a chance. What's the worst that can happen? Nick already thinks I am crazy and now he's annoyed with me because he thinks I don't want to do charity work or meet his friends.

“I know your…parents and my grandma set all this up to get us to spend time together.” The words tumble out of my mouth before Nick has a chance to respond. “You don't have to do all this.”

Nick turns to me for the first time since he picked me up. Our eyes meet, and again my breath is sucked straight out of my body. The look on his face makes me squirm.

“Stop,” he says in a voice so soft I can barely hear him. “I admit, you sort of freaked me out last night, but there's something about you. I can't figure you out. And I want to get to know you better.”

We stare at each other for a few more moments before Nick slowly slides out from behind the steering wheel and comes to open my door. My head reels with the intensity of the emotions hammering away at my heart. None of this is part of the plan. Nick isn't supposed to be like this. I can't explain it, but I know that everything has changed.

I slip out of the truck into the chilly winter air. An old layer of snow crunches under our feet as we hurry toward the door. It's funny but back home I'm never aware of the cold like I am here. As we enter the food pantry, I actually sigh with relief as the warmth envelopes us.

“So what should I do?” I ask as we hang our coats up.

Nick surveys the room. “Would you mind helping serve the meal? I have to go do something else.”

I let Nick introduce me to a bunch of other kitchen helpers before he heads off to do who knows what. After donning an apron, I learn the ins and outs of dinner service. I'm just going to man the baked potato station when Santa enters the room. Nick's joyful laugh fills the space, and the early arrivals look in his direction, the children lighting up with excitement.

As much as I hate to admit it, Nick makes a really good Santa. He plays the part happily, and he seems to bring the true meaning of the season to life. My father never embodied any of that for me. Or anyone else, if I am completely honest.

My attention is drawn away from Nick by a sudden onslaught of people. The line moves quickly and we serve the majority of the people in no time. Occasionally I hear Nick laughing and children giggling with delight. I'm almost to the end of my potato bin when a familiar face appears before me. Merry.

“Virginia!” Merry tugs at her mom's hand. “This is Virginia, the girl I was telling you about.”

“Nice to meet you,” Merry's mom says mustering up a friendly smile. I can see the fatigue in her face.

Merry's mom picks up two plates filled with food and scans the dining room for an open table. “Why don't you get the drinks, honey? I'll meet you at the table by the window.”

Lingering a moment, Merry looks like she wants to tell me something. Then she glances after her mom and her expression falls. “I have to go,” she says.

Her mouth puckers up into a frown. My heart tugs as she turns her baleful eyes up at me once more. I watch her take her time walking over to the drink station. She's really very tiny for a six year old, and her sweater is at least once size too big, making it look like it's engulfing her.

What can I do for her? To make this holiday season just a little better for her? A burst of laughter across the room draws my attention away from Merry and back to Nick. I need to convince him that we belong together, even if I don't believe it myself. Still…as I watch Nick talk to the kids gathered around him, his blue eyes twinkling with delight, I find myself wishing we could meet under different circumstances.

The air in this room feels heavy all of a sudden. I need to get some fresh air. My head feels too full.

I put down the aluminum wrapped baked potato sweating in my hand. After briefly telling the woman in charge I need a short break, I head toward the exit. I glance back at Nick; he's reading a story now, with a large group of children and adults gathered around him. He's so…good. I don't want to like him, but his shiny squeaky-cleanness makes it almost impossible not to. Almost.

The freezing air hits me smack in the face and I inhale deeply. My lungs suck up the bracing cold with something akin to relief. Every cell in my body starts to relax. Maybe I'm like a vampire or something, only I require cold air to function properly. Have I gone nuts? Why am I even comparing myself to other immortal creatures? I'm so squarely human the effect is laughable.

My real problem with Nick stems from an entirely different relationship. I sigh and start pacing around the entrance. My boots crunch the thin layer of old snow around the edges of the sidewalk. I like the way it breaks under my foot.

His name was Johan and he was immortal, the descendent of Norse gods. We met on vacation. Mythical beings tend to stick together, and very few locations in the world are deemed completely safe for travel. On a trip to one such place, Johan captured my heart while we lounged on the beach in the midst of our families. Nothing much ever happened between us other than a few stolen kisses in the moonlight. The whole thing seems like a cheesy teen movie in my mind now. Still when we went home, Johan promised, swore on our love, that he would come to me soon.

Soon never materialized. And I guess if it had, my dad and the elf elders would have put an end to it. I kick a pile of snow, so angry I can feel the bile rising in my throat. As I calm down, I decide I better get back in and help clean up. This is what's important right now. Maybe I'll be able to have a serious talk with Nick before we go to meet his friends.

The heavy door creaks open for me and I step back inside. My eyes automatically survey the room looking for Nick. Disgust with myself causes me to scowl and my shoulders to slump. I skulk back to the serving table trying not to make eye contact with anyone. No one here is to blame for my current position.

With my hand in a bucket of soapy water, I can't help but continue the survey of the room. My eyes finally land on Nick at a table near the far wall. Seated beside him are Merry and her mom. The little girl's eyes are alight with delight from being so near to Santa. And Nick. Oh my.

My treacherous heart squeezes at the tender look on Nick's face as he smiles down at Merry and then over at her mom. Even Merry's mom looks less stressed and tired in Nick's presence. As reluctant as I am to admit it, he really does have a gift for this sort of thing.