Santa's Newest Reindeer (11 page)

“What does it say?” everyone demanded, crowding closer.

“Basically it says that they . . .” he started, but was interrupted by Peg grabbing his arm and shaking it.

“No! No! Read it word for word!” they demanded in unison.

Bill sighed and read the note: “Mom, Dad, Grams, and

Gramps: Do not worry about us. We are OK. Ellie and I are

going to the North Pole, to see if Santa Claus will help us

restore Christmas and New Year’s celebration in the Valley. We

will be home in time for Christmas Eve. We’ve got four days.

You can try to call us on Ellie’s cell phone. We have money and

snacks. Don’t worry. We love you. Will/Ellie XXXXOOOO.”

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“Did anybody hear anything last night?” asked Gramps.

They shook their heads and shrugged their shoulders.

“I hope they took warm clothes. An arctic cold front is fore-

casted, and the wind is supposed to blow all week,” Grams said.

“How are they going to travel? I suppose they called Santa

and he agreed to give them a ride,” humored Gramps, trying

to lessen their concern.

“The snowmobile and cargo snow sled is packed with the

stuff they planned on taking. I didn’t see any clothes or food,”

reported Bill, returning from the garage. “There must have

been a ruckus of some sort. Some of the gardening tools were

strewn on the floor, and I found a small smear of blood at the

front of the rig.”

“Peg, call the police,” demanded Grams, handing over the

telephone.

With a shaky hand, Peg grabbed the phone and rushed into

the living room.

“We need to go door to door and organize a search party.

With blood in the garage, who knows what has happened to

them. My goodness, what if . . .” Gram’s words ceased as Gramps

put his arms around her.

“They’ll be just fine. They’re probably over at the neighbors,

Marco and Bonnie. Ellie and Will often run over to Marco

and Bonnie’s house in the morning to walk to school with their

children. Sometimes kids don’t always tell their parents where

they’re going or when they’ll be home,” suggested Gramps in

a wishful tone, not letting his eyes betray his real concerns.

Peg rushed back into the room, her face pale. “The police

have sent out an all-points bulletin with the kids’ descriptions.

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Thank goodness the school provided the twins’ complete per-

sonal data sheets, including their pictures,” offered Peg with a

sigh of relief.

“They’ll keep us informed. You stay here in case the kids

call or we hear something from the authorities,” encouraged

Bill as he and Gramps donned their winter coats and headed

toward the door.

“We are going to organize a neighborhood search party.

Call us on our cell phones with any news. Don’t worry. We’l

be back soon.”

Peg and Grams followed the two men to the door, locking

it after them, and watched as the human snowmen, flashlights

illuminating their progress, baby-stepped through deepening

snowdrifts that blanketed the driveway. The snow had crusted.

As soon as they stepped on the top layer, it broke under their

weight. Just like their pronounced footprints rapidly disap-

peared, so did the men’s physical outlines.

“What was that?” exclaimed Gramps, pointing skyward to

a streaking flash of fire and sparks. Bill looked upward, but the illumination disappeared before he could locate it.

“Oh, I suspect it was a shooting star,” he mused. “There are

many of them this time of the year. Maybe it’s an elf helping

Santa deliver his Christmas presents,” chuckled Bill, slapping

Gramps on the back. They both laughed.

“Have you been a good boy, Bill?”

“I’m not answering that one,” quipped Bill as they con-

tinued on.

Arriving at the juncture where the driveway and the street

met, they both noticed multiple footprints and small, round

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droppings amid what resembled animal tracks. Although drift-

ing snow had compromised the area, Gramps discovered the

remnants of two deeply carved parallel tracks directly behind

the compressions. They studied the findings. It was as if two

light bulbs switched on inside their heads. They searched the

starry sky, hoping to identify the fiery star Gramps saw earlier, but they couldn’t find it.

“You don’t think . . . nah, it couldn’t be,” jested Bill with a

deadpan look.

“I don’t think so, but you gotta believe. That’s what you always

tell Ellie and Will,” reminded Gramps, poking fun at Bill.

Their shivering was due in part to the cold arctic wind pen-

etrating their layered winter garb but also from the chilling

thoughts of what or who left the unexplainable evidence close

to the driveway. They walked toward Marco and Bonnie’s house.

Neither one was willing to admit that there might be something

to this Santa Claus myth. Making sure that the other was not

watching, both quickly stole one more glance toward the sky.

In that second, the men each returned to their own childhoods.

After all,
if you don
’
t believe, you aren
’
t going to receive!

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Grams and Mom returned to the kitchen, awaiting any news

on the twins’ whereabouts. They busied themselves with idle

chat, checking text messages and e-mails. They tried watching

television and listening to the radio, but neither was on the air.

Each took turns watching out the window and returning to her

chair. The blizzard precluded seeing anything, but nervousness

forced them to check outside every few minutes. The arctic

clipper was gaining strength. Its increasing velocity shook the

storm windows, driving snow dust between them and the main

window. Doors rattled, as if someone or something was trying

to unlawfully enter. Wind shears created high-pitched whistles,

gusting between the house and the garage.

“This weather is not fit for man nor beast to be out in, let

alone two kids,” complained Grams, verbalizing her frustration

and thinly veiling her inner fears.

“They’ll be just fine. Soon they’ll be walking up the driveway

with Dad and Gramps,” countered Peg. “The bond between our

twins and us is stronger than any raging blizzard.” Although

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they nodded in agreement, their nervous smiles betrayed their

true feelings.

A crashing sound caused them to rush to the window. A

garbage can chased its lid across the backyard and smashed

into the storage shed.

“Glad it wasn’t the old cottonwood tree. If that falls, it could

land on the house and cause considerable damage.” No more

had the two women returned to the kitchen table than the lights

flickered and the house went dark. Both radio and televisions,

once crackling with static, went totally silent.

“Do you know where the flashlights are?” asked Grams.

“Bill and Gramps took them, but we have candles and kero-

sene lamps,” reassured Peg as she cautiously navigated toward

the pantry. She luckily found the two kerosene lamps and

returned to the table. The lamps sufficiently lit the room so

they could see each other.

“Good. Never thought we would be using these, but Bill

said it could happen anytime in this country,” related Peg, as

she filled and set three large vessels of water near the sink. “We just might need these if the pipes freeze and we have no water.

“Bill promised that he was going to get the portable generator

fixed first thing this past spring, but I guess he got busy with

something else and never got around to doing the repairs. Just

last week he mentioned that taking it to the repair shop was

number one on his list. I guess he lost the list,” lamented Peg,

searching the cupboards for a box of wooden matches.

“This reminds me of the old days when kerosene lamps and

candles were all we had to light our house. We did everything

by lamplight—reading, eating, sewing—everything,” reminisced

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Grams. She placed the steam kettle on the camp stove’s lit gas

burner.

Peg went to the front room and placed two more logs onto

the dying flames, which sprang to new life. She looked out the

sunroom’s bay window. It looked desolate. The snowfall had

ceased, but the wind continued to howl. The landscape reminded

Peg of the old days when black and white were the only TV

color options. The moon provided the contrast between light

and dark structures. Occasionally, a swaying tree branch scraped

the side of the house, interrupting the quiet still-life scenery.

“Grams, let’s go through the house and open the lower cup-

boards so the warm air circulates around the water pipes.”

Guided by lamplight, the two house sitters went about their

chores. Peg went upstairs while Grams scurried about the main

floor rooms. When Peg returned to the kitchen, Grams had

poured two cups of hot tea and extinguished the flame.

“Let’s go sit by the fireplace and enjoy our tea,” suggested

Grams.

The fire offered comfort from the colder rooms and a cozy

place to wrap up in the homemade patchwork quilts Grams

had made last spring. Sparks snapped from the logs as flames

licked back and forth. Small smoke puffs curled from beneath

the iron grating, ascending like twisting ribbons and disappear-

ing. Orange, red, and yellow embers lulled the two tea sippers

into a trance accompanied by the grandfather clock’s constant,

monotonous
tick-tock, tick-tock
.

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Jeepers turned in his seat and craned his head back at the twins.

They were still on board, alive and alert. All he could see was

their eyes, noses, and their frosty breath, streaming from under

their comforter.

“Enjoying your ride so far?” he yelled, knowing that the ice

had sealed their lips and rendered them incapable of answering

even if they wanted.

“Before we get to the North Pole, I am going to tell you a

few things about astronomy. We are not headed to North Pole,

Alaska. We are headed to the Arctic Circle where Santa Claus

lives and works. The trip will take us at least a day’s travel. We’l spend about two days at Santa’s Village. That will give us one

day to take you home in time for Christmas. We’ll be guided

by star patterns called constellations.

“Many constellations in the north were named in ancient

times by Greeks and Romans. Since the southern groupings

could not be seen from the north, they were named by people

living in European countries. Astronomers—those who study

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stars—named the constellations after animals or mythological

figures. Ha, ha, ha! Ho, ho, ho! Oh what fun! Am I talking too

fast for you?” laughed the little man, bouncing on the driver’s

seat.

Ellie and Will were too cold to answer.

Jeepers continued, “There are eighty-eight recognized con-

stellations, and they cover the entire sky that is visible from