Miss Kane's Christmas (7 page)

The children exchanged wide eyed glances and turned back to Santa, nodding enthusiastically.

“That’s us,” Hillary said.

Patrick continued to stare, apparently unable to speak. Hillary elbowed him.

“How are you Santa?” he finally came out with.

Carol’s father grinned broadly. “You’re a good boy to ask, thank you very much. I’m fine. A bit busy this time of year, but you know that.”

Both children nodded.

Carol heard Ben choke back what was doubtless a smart remark. She turned and glared at him. She should have let the security guard take him to a gray, windowless little room to wait until they were done with their visit. She shook her head at him, doing her best to warn him to be quiet.

He had the good grace to look away.

“Now, let me think,” Santa said, stroking his beard. He looked at Hillary first. “I have heard from your teacher, Mrs. Gonzalez, that you’ve been a wonderful student this year. She says you’re bright, helpful, and kind to the other children. Is that so?”

Hillary nodded solemnly and then turned to look at her father and Carol. Her eyes shone with a delighted pride that touched Carol’s heart. She smiled encouragingly at her. Hillary turned back around to face Santa. Carol snuck a glance at Ben. There was no way he could witness his daughter’s delight and not be as touched as she was. He was frowning but it was a different kind of frown. Less disapproving and more perplexed. Maybe there was hope for him yet.

Santa reached out and placed a hand on Hillary’s head. “I’m proud of you, my girl. The world needs more people as good hearted as you are.”

“Thank you, Santa.”

“Now,” he continued, “tell me what you’d most like for Christmas.”

“May we ask you for two things, Santa? One is for Patrick and me, and one is for…for someone else.”

“Go right ahead,” he answered.

“Well, we’d love a puppy. One that will grow into a big shaggy dog like you see in the movies.”

Ben groaned. “Hillary, that is out of the question-” but he stopped speaking when Santa held up a gloved hand.

“A puppy? Hmmm…I hadn’t thought of that. Is this what you’d like too, Patrick?” He turned to the boy. “Would you enjoy having a puppy?”

In answer, Patrick burst into tears. Carol and Ben both rushed forward.

“It’s okay, honey.” Carol knelt down and rubbed his back.

“Look what you’ve done,” Ben glared at Santa. “Your interrogations are terrorizing my son.”

Patrick shook his head vehemently. “No, Daddy.”

Ben looked perplexed. “Then what’s wrong son?”

“I’m not sad. I’m happy.” Patrick said, hiccups rapidly replacing his tears. “I never imagined we could have a dog of our own, especially a big slobbery one. It’s like I’m having the best dream ever.”

Carol shot a triumphant look at Ben. She hoped that her father came through big time on this one. She wished she could help him scour the world for a dog that would do nothing but shed on the furniture, chew on shoes, and drive Ben crazy. It was no less than he deserved.

“I need to talk to Mrs. Claus about this because puppies, kittens, and ponies are her department,” Santa told the children. “But my wife is soft hearted so I’d suggest that you start thinking of names in case there is a furry creature under your Christmas tree.”

Both children jumped up and down and clapped their hands, their enthusiastic squeals drowning out Ben’s protests.

“Now, what else was it that you wanted to ask me for my dear?” Santa prompted Hillary.

“We would like it if you could help Daddy to like Miss Kane as much as we do.”

“Oh, I see,” Santa nodded understandingly. “You both like Miss Kane, do you?”

“Ever so much,” Hillary said. Patrick nodded. “We’d like her to stay with us forever.”

Silence filled Santa’s inner sanctum. Carol met her father’s eyes. She’d never seen him look so uncertain, and to save her life, she couldn’t think of a single thing to say to help him out.

“Okay, that’s quite enough,” Ben spoke first. He swooped down and took his son’s hand in his. “Children, say goodbye to…to, um, Mr. Claus.” After they did as he bid, he ushered them toward the exit. He glanced back over his shoulder at Carol. “Are you coming?”

She shook her head. “You go ahead, I’d like a word with Santa.”

“Oh, for crying out loud, Carol, can we just stop this charade?”

They stood a few feet apart, yet worlds away in belief, and stared at each other. Carol couldn’t speak. To know that Ben was incapable of believing in something as essentially good as Santa made her heart hurt. Her father saved her from having to speak.

“Goodbye, Mr. Hanson, and Merry Christmas,” Santa said. His voice was still gentle for the children’s sake but it also held an unmistakable air of authority. “Miss Kane will be with you shortly, so kindly wait outside.” He then bade the children goodbye in a more cheerful voice.

After Ben and the children left, Santa stood and held out his arms. Carol hugged him tightly, grateful to have a moment alone with him.

“Oh, Daddy, I’m so confused.”

“It seems you aren’t the only one,” he said. He kissed her on the top of her head before he held her at arm’s length and looked thoughtfully at her. “This appears to be more of a challenge than I’d realized.”

Carol nodded, suddenly unable to follow through on her plan to beg her father to take her home. It wasn’t time to go back to the North Pole.

“I don’t know what I should do next,” Carol confessed. “Or what I’m doing wrong.”

“You’re doing everything right, honey. That’s why Mr. Hanson is so rattled. You’re making progress.”

Carol didn’t think so. But she’d never argued with her father before and wasn’t about to start now.

“Now, this Ben of yours is a tough nut to crack, that’s for sure,” Santa said. “So I think you should go hard core.”

“Can you be a bit more specific?” She actually wanted more than specific, she wanted a full-blown plan of attack broken down into five easy steps.

“You don’t have much time,” her father conceded. “So I suggest you put him on a diet of candy canes and eggnog, plenty of cookies and milk too. Keep the Christmas music going 24/7 and here,” he dug into a pocket of his velvet jacket, “you might as well get him to wear this.”

Carol took the folded fabric square and looked at it questioningly.

“It’s a reindeer patterned sling that your mother made for him,” he said in answer to her unspoken question. “She feels sorry for him.”

Carol groaned. “And what do you think of him?”

Her father gave a half smile. “He has potential. But the real question is this, what do you think of him?”

Carol kept her eyes on the sling in her hands. She didn’t want to put her feelings into words. Besides, her father knew. If he knew when girls and boys around the world had been nice, and when they’d been naughty, he certainly knew his own daughter’s heart. She looked up at him, and the tender expression in his eyes assured her that he knew. She sighed.

“Carol, honey, I believe in you. If it helps, just focus on enjoying the holiday and encouraging Ben to enjoy it with you.”

He said that like it was an easy thing. She reached up and kissed his cheek. “I’ll do my best, Daddy.” With one last hug, she headed toward the exit but turned around when a question popped into her mind. “How is Nicholas holding up without me there? Is he getting the job done?”

Santa shook his head, a playful smile on his lips. “Let’s just say it was a good thing that boy wasn’t twins.”

* * *

“She kissed Santa. I saw her.”

Ben looked at his son in disbelief. First the happy tears over a puppy there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell he was going to get, and now this story.

“Patrick doesn’t lie, Daddy,” Hillary chimed in. She put a protective arm around her brother’s shoulder. “You asked him to peek in Santa’s room and he’s only telling you what he saw.”

“Of course, I’m sorry, son. I believe you.” But of course he didn’t. The poor child was under the spell of a tall tale spun into a commercially overrun holiday. He actually shared his son’s disorientation. Ever since Carol had arrived, charming and cheery, he’d felt like his grasp on reality was tenuous at best.

“What did she say? Did you hear anything?” Ben couldn’t stop himself from asking.

“Daddy! You can’t spy on Santa!” Hillary frown’s was the most ferocious he’d ever seen. “You’ll ruin our chances of getting a puppy.”

“There’s not going to be a puppy-” he broke off when he saw Carol emerge from Santa’s lair and walk toward them. What the heck kind of pain killers had the doctor given him? Something wasn’t right. His heart was beating way too fast.

“What is that look for?” Carol’s voice broke through his thoughts.

Ben started, embarrassed to be caught staring at her, but then he realized she was looking at his children.

“Daddy said we can’t have a puppy,” Patrick said.

“Daddy’s not in charge of puppies,” Hillary added. “That’s Santa Claus’s department, isn’t it, Miss Kane?”

“Technically my…Mrs. Claus is in charge of those decisions,” Carol said. “But we do need to discuss this further at home,” she continued.

At home. Ben felt a stab of envy for any man fortunate enough to share a home, children, and a life with Carol. Hillary and Patrick meant everything to him. He was also grateful to have a secure job and safe home to raise his children in. But the woman before him, the one holding hands with his children, the one patiently explaining the responsibility involved in owning a pet, wasn’t his.

He heard Carol’s voice through his thoughts. “Are you okay, Ben?”

He blinked twice. He had to get a grip or he was heading straight into a world of trouble he’d didn’t need. Might want. But didn’t need. He shook his head. Christmas was making him crazy.

“Daddy’s fine.” Hillary smiled up at him.

He smiled back.

“He’s just upset you kissed Santa,” she added.

He stopped smiling. He glanced at Carol. “Did you?”

Her eyes widened. “Did I what?”

“Kiss Santa Claus?”

She opened her mouth and then closed it again without answering him. He watched as a dozen emotions flitted across her face, none of which he could identify. When it came to women, he knew he couldn’t decode their subtle body language and tricky word choices. He thought it safer to wait for her to speak.

“He’s my father…my…he’s Father Christmas,” Carol sputtered, and her cheeks reddened.

This much body language he could read. He knew he should be quiet now. But all of the tension, frustration, and another emotion he refused to name, pushed him on. “Can you see how ridiculous this whole belief in Santa Claus is, Carol? Don’t you see that you’ve bought into a story about an old man who-”

“Not another word,” she practically hissed at him. She bent and spoke quietly to the children before walking rapidly toward the mall exit.

He watched her for a moment, caught off guard by her action. He jogged to catch up with them and fell in step beside her.

“Carol, stop, please. There’s no shame in admitting the truth.”

She stopped and whirled around to look up at him, her eyes flashing.

To save his life, he couldn’t look away. Her chest rose and fell with her rapid breathing and a strand of her dark hair fell into her eyes.

“Ben,” she narrowed her eyes, “pay attention because this is non-negotiable. We’re going home to spend the day eating candy cane ice cream, drinking hot chocolate, watching Miracle on 34
^th
Street and then we’ll read Christmas stories to the children. After they go to bed, I’m going to talk, and you’re going to listen.” She turned on her heel and strode off again.

Between the challenge he could see in Carol’s eyes, and the way his heart hammered in his chest, Ben knew he was in trouble. Big trouble.

Chapter Eight

Three classic Christmas movies, two pints of peppermint ice cream and one long evening later, Carol tucked her charges into their respective beds. Patrick, worn out from hours of unbridled fun, fell asleep as soon as his little head hit the pillow. His sister, on the other hand, looked pensive as Carol leaned down and kissed her forehead.

“And what are we looking so worried about?” Carol sat on the edge of the little girl’s bed. “I thought you had fun tonight.”

“Oh, I did.” Hillary said.

“You’re worried, aren’t you?” Carol reached for her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Hillary nodded, but remained silent.

Carol waited patiently. Whatever it was that was bothering Hillary, she wanted to know about. She had a good idea what it was but she waited for the girl to speak.

“It’s Daddy.”

Just as Carol thought. She smiled encouragingly. “What about your father?”

“He’s…he’s…oh, Miss Kane, he’s going to ruin Christmas.” Her confession was followed by a torrent of tears.

Carol gathered Hillary into her arms, holding her close while she cried. She rubbed the little girl’s back and rocked her ever so gently. At the same time her mind raced with uncharitable thoughts. But she pushed them aside. The Claus family creed was burned into her heart. Christmas was about children, first, foremost, and last.