Santa's Newest Reindeer (8 page)

“Here are the top three ideas on what can be done to over-

turn the city fathers’ proclamation. One, take the issue to the

attorney general and seek an immediate injunction halting the

proclamation until next year. Two, begin circulating petitions

demanding a recall of the city fathers and immediate election

to replace them, and three, seek legislative help in crafting and passing a bill into law ensuring the rights of Idaho’s citizens to enjoy and celebrate any holiday.”

They signaled their approval by clapping, whistling, and

exchanging high-fives.

“I have much work to do before I meet with the volunteers.

Thank-you. It has been a long day. It’s time to get some sleep.

Tomorrow will be here bright and early,” Dad said.

After exchanging their nightly ritual, everyone retired for the

night, except for the twins, who had some unfinished business.

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Ellie and Will sat across from each other at the kitchen table.

The light above the sink barely outlined their forms. They

waited until the footsteps upstairs had ceased and the house

was engulfed in an eerie quiet. The dripping faucet tapped a

constant irritating beat on the sink’s floor. The more Ellie and

Will stared at each drip, the more their heads bobbed in unison

with each forming droplet and then refocused on the next one.

Will placed his arms on top of each of the captain’s chair’s

armrests. “Okay, now tell me how you plan to get yourself

out of this mess,” he quizzed, as he pushed back against the

chair, bracing himself for another one of Ellie’s harebrained

explanations.

“Well, you know . . .” her voice trailed off. Her foot tapped

nervously against one of the table’s supports.

Will uttered a nervous laugh and crossed one leg over the

other. “I’m still waitin’,” he chided.

This was not the first time Ellie had made promises that

backed her into a corner, but she always seemed to wiggle her

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way out. One time, she’d advertised a neighborhood garage sale

in the newspaper and failed to tell the neighbors. Dad and Mom

got her out of that one by having a backyard barbecue for the

neighbors the night before and smoothing out the wrinkles.

The locals were very understanding and rescued her by posting

signs and participating in the event.

Another time, she’d invited all her girlfriends to a slumber

party but somehow forgot to tell Mom. When the first girl

showed up on the doorstep, Mom realized she would be hosting

a sleepover. Luckily, no one had made other plans for the night

and it all worked out. The next morning, Mom and Ellie had

a heart-to-heart talk shortly after the last girl went home. But

the best one was the bake sale Ellie organized without anyone’s

knowledge, including the school authorities. She’d arranged for

her girlfriends to come over and bake. All the money was going

to be donated to the school to purchase playground equip-

ment. The girls would bring the ingredients, but they failed to

determine what they were going to bake and who was to bring

what. The bake sale was somewhat a success as the items sold

fast, but Mom and Dad had never revealed how much it cost

them out-of-pocket to make this profit. Ellie’s motto was:
All
’
s
well that ends well
!

Ellie folded her hands and placed them on the table. She

looked in Will’s general direction but not at him. She stared

at some invisible point over his head. He mentally blocked

out all noises and looked intently at her to not miss any subtle

gesture or utterance.

“I have been thinking about how to fix Christmas and New

Year’s celebrations in our town,” she stated with conviction.

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“I’m listening.” Will forced another deadpan look.

“So, don’t interrupt me until I finish, okay?” she demanded.

When Will didn’t respond with any smart-alecky comment,

she continued, “I know Dad is leading the community effort

and will have a lot of people helping him. I know he will be

successful, and I know the churches in the valley will be holding prayer services. Now, I’ll tell you what I’m going to do if you

promise not to laugh at me or tell Mom and Dad and Gramps

and Grams or anyone. Do you promise? Cross your heart and

hope to die?”

She searched for a response from his faint outline. It was

much easier to talk and not be seen in the darkness, but it was

nearly impossible to detect any movement from a shadow. Ellie

felt like she was talking to herself. She waited for what seemed

to be an eternity. It was a stare down of equals—neither blink-

ing nor flinching.

“You do believe in Christmas, Santa Claus, and family tradi-

tions, don’t you?” she asked.

Will leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table and

lowering his head until his medium-length, light-brown hair

raked through his hands. It was a habit he repeated whenever

he felt uneasy about the actions of his twin. Will rubbed his

face and repeated the hair ritual.

“Okay. Let’s hear it,” whispered Will, trying not to raise his

voice as he struggled with the open agreement.

“I’m going to the North Pole to tell Santa Claus that the

city fathers will not let us celebrate Christmas or New Year’s,”

she blurted. “I hope you are going with me.”

“You are goin’ to do what? Are you outta your mind? You

have really flipped this time. Grams said you eat too much

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sugar.” Will’s frame coordinated in disbelief with his reaction.

His left foot began to tap uncontrollably.

“And you are going to help me?” Ellie stood up and switched

on the overhead kitchen light. Will looked like a beach ball

that had all its air pressed out. He looked pale and his body

lifeless. He folded his arms in front and laid his head on them.

“What . . . how . . . when . . . who . . . ?” Will slowly lifted his head and sat upright. The gravity of her words pushed against

his chest, and he wiggled to get out from under their weight.

“This is the plan. You are going to map out the fastest route

that takes me to the North Pole. You get the atlas and begin

charting the trip. I’m going to fill my backpack with food,

clothes, and money. Be careful not to wake anyone. Let’s meet

in the garage in one hour.”

“How are you going to travel to the North Pole? Are you

going to walk there?” Will figured she was kidding, but he knew

he better get busy charting a route just in case she was serious.

Ellie tiptoed up the stairs to her room and began collect-

ing the necessities to sustain her trek. Not only was she sure

she could endure the journey, but she was confident she would

prevail in her quest.

The more Will studied the state map, the more he realized

how far it was to the Canadian border. He thumbed through

the atlas until he found the western provinces of Canada. He

found British Columbia and followed his index finger as it

moved to the top of the page. Will recited names of villages,

rivers, mountain ranges, and grasslands he had never heard of

before. He thumbed through the thick atlas until he found

the fold-out map of the United States and Canada. His index

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finger functioned as a pointer, searching northward for the city

of North Pole in Alaska. For the first time he truly feared for

Ellie’s well-being. She had really bitten off more than she could handle this time. He admired her courage, but he feared her

poor judgment. Should he talk to her? Should he wake Dad

and tell him? He did promise her he wouldn’t say anything, and

his word was good as gold. Although he knew how stubborn

she could be, he had to try to convince her that this was far too ambitious an undertaking. She really had gone over the edge

this time and would need his help getting back in the good

graces of Dad and Mom.

Besides, how did she know that Santa Claus lived at North

Pole, Alaska? How did anybody know for sure? Had anyone ever

seen Santa and Mrs. Claus in person? Had anyone ever visited

their cottage and seen Rudolph and the eight tiny reindeer?

How about those elves? Oh sure, all these characters had fairy

tale books written about them and their exploits, but as far as

he knew, there was no scientific evidence proving their exis-

tence. He believed in Christmas and Santa Claus and all that

went with it, especially at this time of the year. Who wouldn’t?

There was a time to believe and a time to be skeptical. For the

sake of his sister, he was going against his better judgment and

throwing caution to the wind. His twin asked for his help. He

knew she would come to his aid if he called on her.

Ellie quietly dumped her school papers and books on the

floor and stuffed as many clothes as possible into her school

backpack. She knew she had to travel lightly. As she sat on

the edge of her bed, she looked around her room. There was

the stuffed bear Grams had given her. Pictures of the family

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cluttered the dresser detailing fun-filled family events. Spelling bee ribbons decorated a messy bulletin board above her desk.

She thought about taking her diary but decided against it.

When would she have time to write in it? Anyway, she figured

she could catch up when she returned home from visiting with

Santa Claus. She hid it between the mattress and box springs.

Ellie fought her emotions as a salty tear trickled down her cheek.

No time for crying now. Plenty of time to cry later . . .

After all, crying was for sissies. She stuffed her birthday

money into her shirt pocket and buttoned it. She pushed her

cell phone into her vest and zipped the pocket.

She stood. In the act of swinging the backpack on her shoul-

der, she brushed against the lamp on her nightstand. It teetered

back and forth, and she rescued it just a split second before it

crashed to the floor. She stood in quiet desperation, fearing she had awakened one of the adults. Luck was on her side.

Sometimes it is better to be lucky than skillful . . .
She had heard or read that somewhere.

She crept to the bedroom door, only to see the pencil notches

marking her physical growth beginning at age four and the cor-

responding birthdates. She counted four marks as she rubbed

her right hand over each one. She had to be back for the next

measurement on January 1. Will and Ellie would celebrate their

ninth birthdays. Then it was only four more years until they

would be teenagers. Becoming teenagers was important to the

twins. Mom and Dad had promised they could get their learner’s

permits and begin driving when they turned fifteen, provided

they kept up their grades in school. Up to now, they were

allowed to drive the snowmobiles in the country if accompanied

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by adults. It was a long wait, but each year was one step closer.

Ellie switched off the light and stepped into the hallway,

nearly colliding with Will. He caught her and put his index

finger to her mouth before she could scream. He directed her

down the stairs, motioning her to the kitchen.

“What are you doing?” she whispered as she eyed his bulging

backpack. She surveyed his red-and-black snowmobile suit and

his Sorel Caribous. Will returned the ogle by looking at her

Joan-of-Arctic boots and white snowmobile suit.

“You look more like an Easter bunny than a cross-country

skier,” he kidded.

“What are you doing? Why are you dressed like that, and

what’s in your backpack?” she stuttered, trying to change the

subject.

“You can’t go alone. You shouldn’t even go at all,” he

demanded.

“I can too. I’m old enough to be responsible for my actions.

We’re . . . I’m gonna be nine next month.”

Will pulled the folded map from his pocket and placed it on

the table. “Look. It’s 2,835 miles to North Pole, Alaska. That’s