Santa's Newest Reindeer (5 page)

to repeat the process over and over.

The three generations of Taylors scurried about the kitchen,

choreographing their movements to avoid colliding with each

other. Will slid the utensils across the table as if dealing from a deck of cards, while Ellie daintily set each glass and cup in

its proper place. Mom and Dad dished up the breakfast fare

as Grams placed the coffee and the milk on the table. Gramps

was already sitting in his usual spot.

“You folks sure do good work,” he chided, pouring himself a

cup of coffee. “Yup, good help is hard to find these days.” Usu-

ally that comment would have provoked a response from each

of the workers, but today was different. They joined hands and

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recited the family prayer, remembering all things great and small.

The conversation was rather contrived, with small talk cen-

tered on how good the food tasted and kudos to the chefs. Even

the laughter was contrived. The tick-tock of the grandfather

clock added to the rhythm of the conversation. While Ellie was

somewhat engaged in the conversation, her thoughts centered on

her dad’s surprise invitation to speak at the City Hall meeting.

She was both excited and nervous. She had never spoken to a

large group of people before, and she certainly didn’t want to

embarrass her family, especially her dad. Ellie had given oral

reports in front of her fourth-grade class, and she had read

books to first and second graders. She was excited to be on the

same stage as her dad, but she was fearful of goofing up and

embarrassing her family. Will was more engrossed with his

electronic game board. Occasionally he grunted and complained

about scoring points before the game time expired. He was in

his own world.

“I wonder how much snow we got,” asked Mom, trying to

break the silence.

“Dunno. Looks like at least twelve to fourteen inches or

more,” Dad replied, looking out the window.

“Sure looks cold,” added Grams, pulling her sweater tighter

around her shoulders.

“I wonder how many people will be at City Hall. I hope we

have a strong showing, or else we are really wasting our time.”

Bill reviewed his speaking notes, not really focusing on anything in particular. He sensed the gravity of the proclamation, but

he was ready for the challenge that lay before him, fortified by

his newfound energy.

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On the outside, Ellie smiled at her dad and pretended to

be confident of the outcome. But her mannerisms masked her

worries. She thanked her grandparents for their willingness to

help, noting that this was not really their fight since they lived in a different town. She hugged her mother, asked if she could

help with anything, and winked at her brother, who couldn’t care

less. But her heart did not share her dad’s confidence. Rather,

she was uneasy about the unknown. Ellie found comfort in

situations that she could control or, at least, could visualize the end result. She was confident that her dad would do a super job

leading the meeting, yet the butterflies danced in her stomach.

They would rest for a few minutes then flutter about again.

She liked butterflies but not if they made her feel sick in the

tummy. Butterflies were meant to be free, and she was doing

everything she could to let them escape. She stared at her dad,

hoping to receive a sign of confidence, but nothing came back.

Peg cradled Bill’s arm in her hands and gently rubbed it.

She looked deeply into his eyes, sending a sign of assurance.

Bill leaned toward her and wrapped his arm around her, then

kissed her forehead. “We’ll be just fine,” she promised and

squeezed his arm again.

“Ah, they’ll all be there if they know what’s good for them,”

threatened Gramps in that rough and gruff tone he customar-

ily used. His effort to lighten the mood failed. He shuffled his

feet and repositioned himself in his chair. “Looks like we got

enough food left to feed an army,” he chided, hoping again to

get a response.

“Yup,” Will chimed in, “and I hope the army meets us at

City Hall. We might need the help.” That broke the ice, and

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they all laughed. It was a healing laugh. They looked at Will

and forced another laugh.

“Time to get ready,” offered Dad. He looked at his wrist,

but he wasn’t wearing his watch.

They laughed again, because he never forgot his watch. Time

and promptness were two of his pet peeves, and this time he

was the victim of his own perfection.

“One for the money,” poked Ellie.

“Two for the show,” followed Will.

“Three to get ready,” chimed Grams and Gramps.

“Okay, okay, let’s clear the table and put stuff away before we

go,” commanded Mom, pointing to the sink and refrigerator.

“The ants go marching two by two, hoorah, hoorah!” chorused

Ellie and her gramps as they hastily cleared the table while the

others performed their duties. The chores were a good diversion

for her. Her confidence was winning the mental battle over her

fear of failure. Besides, her dad would be right next to her and

her family close by. That was the most important factor.

While the aroma of breakfast lingered throughout the house,

an air of uncertainty occupied their innermost thoughts. They

donned their winter garb and met in the foyer, waiting for Dad.

They stood next to each other like strangers riding an elevator,

hoping someone would speak, but the eeriness prevailed.

“Time to go! See?” humored Dad as he lifted his arm, show-

ing off his silver and gold watch. “Time waits for no one, or

however that saying goes,” he quipped, waving his arm over

his head like a rodeo rider roping a calf.

They groaned at his poor humor and western antics as they

followed him out the door—butterflies and all!

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The damp, cold air rushed to greet them. It quickly replaced

the warmth in their lungs and stung at their exposed flesh.

They stopped on the porch to survey their surroundings. Noth-

ing stood out. They grayish-white sky blended with the ivory

landscape distorting the lines, angles, and curves of the neigh-

borhood. Icicles hung precariously from the eave trough. Will

reached up and snapped the longest one. Some snow broke

from the roof ’s grasp and slid off the edge.

“Will!” shrieked Ellie, for she was the recipient of the largest

chunk of snow since she was standing right below the slide.

Will dusted her off, but the more he brushed, the more snow

trickled down her neckline. He extended the icicle as a peace

offering. She knocked it from his hand and shook her mitten

in his face, vowing for revenge at another time.

They shuffled to the car and proceeded to sweep the snow

from the windows, making sure the headlights and taillights

were visible. Once inside, their breath frosted the windows, and

they begged for heat. The starter groaned, the engine sputtered,

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and then the car started. Dad turned the defroster on, and it

whistled and complained. Gramps wiped the front and side

windows, but the warmth of his hands smeared the glass. Soon

a peephole appeared at the bottom of the windshield, and the

driver could at least distinguish the hood ornament. Dad rolled

the driver’s window down rather than futilely smear the window

as Gramps, the navigator, had done.

“Seatbelts on?” Dad asked.

The SUV strained at the first command, but it gained traction in

the deep snow. The vehicle bounced—
thump, thump, thump
—due to the weight. As the car gained speed, the ride smoothed out.

“Did anyone remember to lock the back door?” Dad asked,

not really wanting an answer. It was the question he always

asked whenever they all left the house together. “No problem.

I guess it will be okay.”

It was dead quiet in the car. They were engrossed in their

own thoughts.

“A penny for your thoughts,” offered Gramps, receiving only

a murmur from Grams.

Will vigorously rubbed his mitten back and forth across the

driver’s window in an effort to clear the frost for his dad. The

SUV’s defroster had not warmed enough to melt the frost.

The passengers applied the only ice scraper to their respective

windows, trying to scratch small viewing holes. Each strained

to look out the peephole they had etched. Dad looked in the

rearview mirror, ensuring it was safe to pull off to the side of

the road, and commanded Will to get out and scrape the front

windows.

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As Will approached the front of the car, Ellie watched

from her window. He bent over the front fender and began

scraping the heavy frost. The screeching sound of the scraper

on the window sent tingles down Ellie’s spine. Will moved

to the passenger side and repeated the process. This time he

slowed the scraping, intensifying the screeching sound. He

appeared to enjoy this too much. The riders laughed and

groaned at his antics. He had an audience and was going to

make the best of it.

Bill shook his head and honked the horn. Will moved to

the front of the vehicle, put his hands above his head like a

ballerina, and spun around in circles until he nearly fell down.

They booed and applauded his performance. Bill just shook his

head, but it was the relief they all needed.

When Will returned to the car, he tossed the scraper in the

back seat, buckled his seatbelt, and shut the door. He looked

straight ahead, rubbed his face, and blew warm air into his

gloves. Dad looked at him in the mirror and caught his eye. They

both chuckled. Only on rare occasions did Will exhibit such

humor. It was a moment of pride for Dad, as Will reminded

him of himself when he was Will’s age. Dad reached over and

gave his son a strong pat on his shoulder. A general chuckle

broke the silence. Mom just looked at him with an approving

twinkle in her eye.The SUV slid sideways, entering the park-

ing lot adjacent to City Hall. The bodies tilted to the left and

then regained their upright posture. Packed snow created a

virtual ice skating rink. Many protestors had already arrived.

The parking lot reminded Ellie of a giant puzzle. Vehicles were

parked in every direction. It was going to be interesting to see

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how long it took to untangle the mess. Dad found an opening

and parked near the alley.

“Be careful of the ice,” cautioned Mom as the four doors

flung open and everyone climbed out. When Mom’s feet touched

the ground, her legs flew up in the opposite direction, her arms

flailing like windmills. Gramps and Grams rushed to her aid

and knelt by a motionless heap.

“Peg, are you okay?” they gasped and waved for the others

to come. Her lifeless form started to quiver, and she broke into

that infectious smile.

“I’m fine. I always get out of the SUV this way. My legs don’t

always reach the ground, and I have to slide out.” They lifted

her to her feet, reset her glasses back on her face, dusted off as much snow as possible, and expressed their relief by joining

Mom in her self-effacing humor.

“You know, this is the season that you’re supposed to walk

like a penguin. You never see one of them fall down on the ice,

do you?” lectured Ellie. For a moment, she was her old self,

poking fun at anybody and waiting for a volley in return. They

all giggled as they headed toward City Hall.

“Nice day for a ral y!” shouted a man wearing a stocking cap.

“I hope the city fathers are here. They are going to get an

earful,” gestured his buddy as he raised and shook his fist.

As they made their way to the front of the building, they

could hear the chants getting louder and louder.

“We want our rights!”

“Where are the city leaders?”

They were startled at the number of protestors.

“There must be at least a thousand people here,” Dad specu-