The Santa Society (17 page)

“Life is full of that, for everybody.” He locks eyes with me.

I can’t know what he gives up unless I ask. If I know, maybe I’ll understand what I should do—if I need to do him a favor and let him go. I’m not a Society member, so he can’t have both. So how much will I cost?

“Reason, these past few days with you have been...amazing. I have so many feelings for you I can’t put them into words. But I don’t know if I can let you risk losing something so important to you. Not for me, especially when I don’t even know what it is. I kind of need to know what you’ll see every time you look at me.”

His shoulders sag. It’s not what he wants to hear, but he knows it’s logical. And that’s what I’m good at: being far too somber and complicated. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Erin. Seriously.”

I study the shadows in his face, the way his eyes plead with mine, and my heart begins to quicken. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I should leave it alone…but I know I can’t. I haven’t kissed him in two days. Suddenly, I need to. I need one more kiss before anything changes.

I crawl over to him and sit on my knees, facing him. I cup his face in my hands. The moisture in his reddened eyes threatens to spill over his eyelashes. I press my mouth to his and taste the salt on his lips—the taste of rain and simple goodness. Heat rises in my stomach. I melt into him as he pulls me closer, into his strong arms. I want to stay here forever. His breath catches, and it nearly sends me out of my skin to feel such a powerful man tremble at my touch...but he does.

I pull away slowly, tracing my finger across his cheek. I kiss him there, before I sit back on my knees. The air between us feels electric. It threatens to pull me in again. I’ve never in my life felt such a powerful reaction to anyone. I needed to know this, too, before I hear his answer. Now, I have a better idea of what
I
would lose, and if I am capable of being that strong.

“Can’t we just do that again instead?" he asks as he bites his lower lip in that irresistible way of his. It tempts me to forget all about making him answer my question.

But I can’t. “I need to know.”

He searches my eyes like he’s trying to decide if I mean it, or maybe he’s trying to memorize me
before,
the same way I wanted to remember his kiss. Fear tingles in my stomach as he gives me a reluctant nod.

He takes my hand in his, touches my palm with his finger, lifts it to his mouth and kisses it. His warm breath tickles and sends goose bumps across my skin. He takes my other hand and holds them both together, palms up, then he lays his hands down over them. I wanted to know the answer, but instead we look like we’re about to play patty cake.

“Close your eyes and think of something you need. It has to be pure—true in your heart.”

I look at him like he’s crazy. What kind of game is he playing with me? He gives me a serious look, so I close my eyes. But I can't think.

I peek at him.

His smile looks both sad and earnest. “It’s okay. Take your time. It’s there in your heart, just clear your mind and let it come to the forefront.”

I close my eyes again and imagine a blank movie screen. Soon, I see a cake on it, a red velvet cake—my favorite.

“Okay, got it.” I say with my eyes still closed.

“No, you don’t. Try again. That’s not what you need, that’s just random.”

“Oh, sorry.” Wait, how did he know that?

Instead of the movie screen, I imagine my thoughts sinking into my chest—merging together there in an ocean of black. I concentrate, trying hard to relax at the same time, which doesn’t seem to go together at all, because now I’m thinking about the whole thing way too hard. I settle for relaxing instead of thinking.

Soon, an image pops in my mind: a ring, one like my mother’s engagement ring, but this one is white gold, not yellow. I brush the image away.
Not that
. How embarrassing and desperate looking. What if he asks me what I pictured? I pull up something else: a car key. I don’t have a car, and I need one.

“Okay, Erin. Open your eyes.”

I open and blink. He keeps his intense gaze on the union between his cupped hands and mine. For a moment, I almost wonder if they suddenly feel warmer.

He slowly lifts up the heels of his palms and peers between them, like he’s stealing a peek at something.

“Oh, I get it. It’s a magic trick. Something will appear there.” I roll my eyes and try to sound bored.

He lowers his palms again as a smile creeps across his face. He really knows how to play the part.

“I’m being serious, and you’re playing games,” I chide.

“It’s not a magic trick.” He lifts his hands away.

I gasp. A diamond ring lies nestled in the cup of my palm. It glimmers in the firelight. I blink hard. It’s the same one I saw in my mind—white gold with a raised round solitaire encircled by a lower row of smaller diamonds.

My hands begin to shake. I try to swallow, but my throat feels like dry parchment. This can’t really be happening.

I look up at Reason. He glows with pleasure.

What was it he said? It had to be something I need, pure and true in my heart.
Did he buy this for me? Is he proposing? He hardly knows me…and yet he knows me better than I know myself.
“This is a trick. Somehow this is a trick.”

“No, Erin. It’s not a trick. I promise.”

He promises.

Even if he made a lucky guess, he couldn’t have known what it should look like. My rationality screams at me.
This can’t be real.
It’s. Just. Not.

But it is.

I don’t know what to do with it. I hold it between two fingers and examine it more closely in the light. It’s so beautiful.

“What does it mean? How did you do this? Is this what you did with Callie? And the peppermint you gave me?”

“Yes, it’s what I did with Callie. But, the candy cane was just a magic trick.”

My mind races. “So she needed groceries for her family and warm coats, something honest and pure.”

He nods, his eyes glittering. “Yes.”

I continue, “I tried to think of a car key instead. I don’t have one, and I could really use it, but—”

“You don’t really need it in your heart. It’s not pure,” he finishes for me.

“And the ring?” I stare at it.

“It’s needed, pure and honest. Sometimes we need the meaning behind whatever it is, less than the object itself. And sometimes we don’t know we need it, but we do. And it never violates free will.”

“I understand, I think.” I feel sheepish. In the past couple of minutes, I’ve shown him something very private without intending to. “What does this mean, though?”

“It means I’m the man of your dreams.” He gives me a coy smile.

“Seriously, Reason, is this what you do with the Society? I’m dying to know.”

“Yes, in a round-about way.”

“He called you Father—why? What’s your position, your role?” I don’t care if I’m interrogating. Curiosity burns me with an all-consuming fire.

He looks at me seriously again. “Father Christmas. It’s the highest office. There are others beneath me, scattered across the world. They carry the Gift too.”

“Father Christmas,” I repeat. “But, what does that
mean
?”

He takes a deep breath. “I’m Santa Claus.” He says it in such a rush, I wonder if I misheard him.

He waits.

I search his face for the hint of a smile to begin in his eyes, the moment he can’t keep it straight. He’ll bite his lip and laugh, and then tell me the real answer. But he doesn’t. I think he may be serious.

I blink at him.

Still nothing.

He’s serious.

“You’re
the
Santa Claus.”

“I am.”

“And you have other Santa Clauses underneath you, but you’re the big guy, the top dog.”

“That’s right. They’re my helpers. I can’t visit everyone who needs me in just one night. I only have so much magic.”

“And I descend from a helper.”

“No, you descend from Santa Claus too. Cassius was the big guy once. He didn’t fulfill his term, so my father succeeded him.”

“How long is a term?”

“A lifetime.” He clears his throat. “But Cassius resigned. My dad said he did it because he lost the Gift.”

“Is that what you’ll have to do? Resign?”

“Maybe, if Cassius won’t back down on this.”

“When did you know who I was? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t know until last night.”

“But you provoked him to say more, like you knew it already.”

“No, it just made me angry how he downplayed what he did to them. He must’ve assumed I knew about you.”

I’m glad to know he disagrees with Cassius’ choices, even without knowing they involved my mother. I don’t say this, though. Instead, my thoughts return to the fact that a decision has to be made.

This couldn’t get more out of control. What he stands to give up, I mean. I turn the ring over in my hand, wishing things could be simple.

“I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to decide if you’re worth it to me. That’s not fair. Erin, the ring is the real answer to your question. The Gift—this ring—shows us both the truth.”

“How so?”

“It’s telling you that you
are
worth it to me. The Gift won’t oppose free will or harm another—right now that means me too. So it’s for both of us. If I didn’t need you—or if it would do harm to me—it wouldn’t be in your hand right now. You just have to believe, Erin.”

“So, ‘The Gift’ knows all this stuff.” I wish it made as much sense to me.

“Yes—because the Giver does. I know it sounds crazy. I just need you to trust me.”

“I hold a ring in my hand that I imagined in my head. How can any of this be real?”

“I know it’s hard, but do you believe?”

“I want to. It’s just so huge. If you lose your position in the Society, what happens to the Gift?”

His eyes cloud as he looks at the ring. “It would be assumed by my replacement.”

I slowly begin to realize why The Society exists: to protect the Gift and the people who carry it. I shiver as I consider the possibilities in a world with so much darkness.

“So what do you plan to do with the ring?”

I look up and find him smiling at me. “I don’t know.” And I honestly don't. I have an engagement ring from a guy who didn’t give it to me yet, who also—funny thing—turns out to be Santa Claus.

“Maybe you should wear it. There’s time for belief.”

I guess he’s got a point.

I slip it on the finger of my right hand. It fits perfectly.

A vibrating sound comes from somewhere close by. Reason digs in his pocket and pulls out his cell phone. He swipes his thumb across the screen and reads it.

His eyes shift to me. “Brice needs me at the Sloon. I’ve to go see what’s going on.” Before I know what’s happening, he’s already on his feet, picking up the plates and containers.

“The Sloon?” I scramble to help. “What’s that?”

“The compound you saw yesterday—where my men stay.”

I snatch up the last napkin and toss it in the empty container of sesame chicken. “Why’s it called that?”

“Because it’s a saloon.” He gives me a sideways glance and I already see the outline of his grin in profile.

I throw up my hands. “A saloon? Are you kidding me?”

He chuckles as he holds out my coat. “Nope. Not kidding. It used to be on Main St. The city planned to tear it down, so I got it dirt cheap. All I had to do was move it.”

“So Santa’s elves are really cowboys who live in an old brothel? Nice, Reason.”

His eyes open wide with feigned shock. “I’ll have you know the saloon never, I repeat never, housed a brothel.”

“And I won’t bother asking how you ‘moved’ it to the ranch.” I shake my head as he finishes pulling my coat up over my shoulders and reaches for his own.

“The Society has a trucking company.”

“Of course it does.” I’d pictured something much more theatrical, but this totally fits.

Chapter 19

“WHY IS SHE HERE?” Brice eyes me with a cool stare.

“Because this involves her too. Now mind your manners.” Reason gives him a stern look.

I sit beside him at the head of the dining table in the Sloon. Brice refuses to sit. He paces the length of the table until Reason says, “Park it. You’re making me nervous.”

I had no idea Reason has so many helpers. At least twenty more men occupy the remaining seats—way too many for it to be this quiet. I study Dex who sits across from me, looking sober and, I suspect, very hung-over. He rubs his temples and stares at the table.

Reason holds a letter in his hands, quietly reading. Once his eyes drift down to the final line, he looks up at Brice. “When did you get this?”

“About 35 minutes ago. Mayor Taylor and Brother Cassius dropped it by.” Brice crosses his arms.

 Reason reads it again. When he finishes, he folds it and shoves it in his back pocket.

“What’s happening, Boss?” Dex’s face turns another shade of pale.

“The Elders have invoked a security breach response until further notice. The city has responded by shutting down the tunnels.”

A wave of shock passes around the table. Then, everyone begins talking at once.

“What about Christmas?” Dex looks stricken.

Reason holds up his hand, and the men fall silent.

“I’ll do everything in my power to ensure Christmas won’t be affected.”

“What do we do until then?” I can see why Reason chose Dex as his right hand man. He has spirit, and he’s committed.

“I’ve been placed on leave, pending a disciplinary decision. The notice requires each of you to report to the Council for further direction. You are not to take any further orders from me. I’ve acted without Council vote and violated the alliance with the City.”

A collective inhale passes through the men.

“But that’s not true. Cassius took the permits. And the Elders voted to include the reindeer—they
approved
it,” Dex insists.

“Not according to Cassius.”

“It’s my fault, all my fault.” Dex makes a choked sound, looking like he wants to cry.

“The real problem sits right here at this table.” Brice glowers at me. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”