The Santa Society (18 page)

Heat floods my face. I lift my chin and return his gaze, but I’m stinging from his words.

Reason’s voice crashes down on him like thunder. “You’ve been with me three years, but you’ll not be here another second if you speak to her that way again. Understood?”

Brice looks away.

Reason moves his gaze from face to face around the table of men. “Erin is a direct descendant of the Society bloodlines. In the days of our founders, this would have been enough to invoke the Oath of Honor. I trust you will all treat her with the same level of respect.”

 I want to shrink under the table as the heat of everyone’s eyes presses in on me. Brice jumps to his feet, throws down his hat, and walks out. A door slams a few seconds later.

Reason turns to the other men. “As the Elders ordered, you are free to go now.”

No one moves. The room as grown so quiet, I imagine I still hear the drip of the whisky bottle from yesterday.

Slowly, Dex pushes back from the table and gets to his feet. “I can’t leave, Reason. I give you my word, just like I gave it to your father.” He removes his hat and places it over his heart.

Movement a few seats down draws my attention. Another man rises. He removes his hat. Then, one by one, each man stands, hat to his chest. Then I notice they have all turned their attention to me.

I glance at Reason. He stands hand over heart, with a solemn intensity that humbles me.

They begin to speak…in unison:

We were the wise men in the days of old.

 When the Giver brought Light into the world.

 By his feet we laid our humble gifts.

At his head we touched our lips

We bring celebration in remembrance

Blessings in silence

Hidden kindnesses in giving

His light still lives.

God bless your eyes to see beauty.

Your ears to hear need

Your lips to speak truth

Your heart to love completely

Your hands to give and serve

Your feet to walk the path of faith.

We were the wise men in the days of old

We live on in the magic of the Gift.

As though a breeze moves over me, tiny hairs raise and prickle over my entire body. I don’t know what to do. I only know I’ve never been the center of a moment like this. The sense I’ve witnessed something ancient and private leaves me speechless.

Reason motions for me to rise. I stand to face them, fumbling with my hands. No one speaks. They seem to wait for something, but I don’t know what comes next.

Finally, Dex leans over and whispers. “Just say ‘Amen’.”

So I do. “Amen.”

The men nod and return their hats to their heads.

Reason winks at me with tears glittering in his eyes.

Once everyone has taken their seats, he continues. “We’ll carry on—business as usual. We’ll continue to prepare for Christmas. Society code calls for the closure of our end of the tunnels. Dex, I’ll leave that to you. To all of you, I’m deeply honored you’ve chosen to stay. I won’t forget it, and I won’t let you down. I promise.”

He promises.
I sure hope he knows how to keep it.

With that, the meeting ends. A few men come to speak with him privately. I stay seated and give them space, but I still hear their words. They pledge their continued loyalty and service. Some suggest more drastic measures, but to each he assures them he has a plan. Quite frankly, I don’t know what that is. Maybe he just thought of it.

“Miss?”

I turn to see Dex beside me. “Yes?”

“I just want to apologize for Brice, and for my behavior yesterday. I just don’t ever want to hurt the Boss. Never. I don’t drink, neither. I had that bottle twenty years. Something just told me things was bad enough to need it yesterday. I guess I was right. I’m sorry you had to see me like that.”

“It’s okay, Dex. You’re a good man.” And I mean it.

His cheeks redden. “Thank you, Ma’am.”

“What’s the plan exactly?” I ask, as soon as Reason climbs in the truck and shuts his door.

He puts the key in the ignition and starts the engine. “I have one, but it’s just not solidified yet.” He puts it into drive.

“Solidified, as in you don't know exactly what it is?”

“Right.”

I watch the Sloon grow smaller in the rearview mirror as we drive away. “So, where’re we going now?”

“To the Office.”

I look at my watch: five o’clock. “That’s part of the un-solidified plan?”

He grins. “Yes. I figure I’ll know more about it by the time I get there. And if not, I’ll know by the time I leave.”

“You’re a confident man. I like that.” I take his hand. I don’t want to think about anything beyond that. Because if it fails, I don’t know if I can bear even the thought of implementing the other plan, so I pray I’ll never have to.

I rest my head against his shoulder and close my eyes. I won’t let myself think about it right now. I’m that weak.

We stand on the back stoop of the office building because, this time, someone’s locked the door. Reason rings the bell a third time. Soon, the shuffle of footsteps moves across the floor inside. The lock slides with a metallic click, and the door swings inward.

Hannah peers at us, looking like a wide-eyed owl. She swivels her head from me to Reason, her face a shroud of folds and shadows. He bends down low and she plants a motherly kiss on his cheek, running her hand over the side of his head. “I’m glad you’re here.” She sounds relieved.

She steps back and pulls her glasses from the pocket of her robe. Once she’s fitted them to her face, she turns her gaze to me and smiles. I see in her eyes she knows the trouble ahead. Today, I am not the pope. She reaches for my hand and gives it a squeeze. But, I’m at least a welcomed visitor. “Come in.” She steps back, allowing us to pass through.

“Where’s the mister?” Reason asks.

“Upstairs. He hasn’t been feeling well the past few days.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He looks both hurt and concerned.

“We didn’t want to worry you. You’ve had a big week and at this time of year—” She clucks her tongue and dismisses the matter with a small wave of her hand. “Besides, he’s far too proud for pity. Didn’t even want to tell me. I’m not blind though—not yet, anyway.”

We follow her though the office and up a flight of stairs. They creak and groan under our weight. When we reach the top, she makes a sharp left. Her speed still amazes me. I round the corner, feeling slow and cumbersome. I’m holding up the line with Reason behind me.

She disappears around the corner, and I quicken my step. Suddenly, I’m standing in a hallway. I don’t see any sign of her, but up ahead, a door stands ajar. As though she’s heard my thoughts, her disembodied head appears in the open doorway, the threshold concealing the rest of her, and I hurry forward.

Inside, I find myself standing in an antique store—almost. It’s an apartment filled with very old furniture and hundreds of books in neat rows along built-in shelving. Oriental carpets cover most of the brown, painted floors. Lamps provide the only lighting, giving it a golden and cozy effect.

I feel Reason’s hand in the small of my back. “It’s okay to go on back.” He points to a doorway. Once again, Hannah reappears, her hands folded in patience. She offers me a kindly smile.

I make my way to the door, scanning the portraits on the wall as I go. Most of them look old, as in sepia-toned old, but a more recent one catches my eyes just as I reach the door. It hangs on the wall at eye level. A young man smiles at me from the frame. He wears a graduation cap on his head with the tassel dangling just beside his temple. In his warm smile, brown eyes, slight case of acne, and strong soft face, I see a young Reason. Just as I lean in closer to inspect it, Reason’s hand appears from behind me and covers it, blocking my view.

I cast him a sideways glance over shoulder.

“No fair. Picture-shame should be shared. I haven’t seen any of yours, and I’ve looked.”

“That’s because I took them all down, smarty-pants,” I whisper under my breath and return my attention to the room we’ve just stepped into.

The Mister lies propped on pillows in a king-sized bed. He matches Hannah perfectly. He looks about the size of an eight year old snuggled into a massive quilt, one that must have taken a couple of years to make. It features a Christmas scene, a village—complete with a train station. If it weren’t so enormous, it would make a lovely wall hanging. My mother would love it, and that makes me smile.

He wears glasses identical to Hannah’s. The more I look at him, the more I wonder if they might be twins instead of husband and wife. “Reason.” His eyes brighten.

“Ives.” Reason crosses the room in two steps and bends down to embrace the small man. He pats his shoulder and stands back, smiling. But I see traces of worry in his profile as he studies the man he calls, “the Mister.”

“Sit down, son. Tell me how it is with you.”

Reason pulls two chairs away from the wall and places them closer to the bed.

He allows me to sit first, before he seats himself.

“This must be Ms. Sinclair.”

“It’s nice to meet you.”
Yes, I am the infamous temptress of Santa Claus.

He smiles at me warmly. Exhaustion pulls at the corners of his mouth, but his expression seems sincere.

I notice Hannah has disappeared. My eyes drift to the TV across the room: a reality show. Ives produces a remote from the depths of his quilt, and his handshakes as he fumbles with the mute button.

“Ives, things aren’t well with the Society.”

“So I hear, but I want to know how things are with you first.” He searches Reason’s face.

“Things are very good for me.” Reason gives him an almost imperceptible nod and a look passes between them.

Ives nods in return. “Now, let’s discuss the Society.”

Reason takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. His eyes lower to the floor. “I’ve been put on leave. The apprentices won’t be ready—not in time for Christmas. It could cost me the Office—permanently. I’m not sure what’s driving this yet, but I think it’s about more than Amendment 16. I knew I’d face backlash, but this”—he rubs his hand over his head—“It’s a surprise.”

“And you’ve carefully weighed what you’re willing or not willing to lose.” Ives studies him closely.

“I’ve got to stand for what’s right. Not doing so would break my vows. I just never expected the Gift to offer itself to me. I can’t walk away from that. If I tried, the Gift would be gone, anyway. I’d be Father Christmas in title only. If not for violating my oath, then for denying the Giver. What Cassius expects of me is impossible—it’s unjust.” His voice is raspy and urgent.

 “Your conjecture is familiar. As I recall, your father shared such views. Nothing is free of injustice in the hands of men.”

Reason remains silent as Ives continues, “Sometimes an injustice is worth the greater good. You propose to deny the whole world for the sake of two. Is that how you fulfill the Gift? Are you sure that your own desires have not tainted what you see, what you want to believe?”

“I’m sure. It showed me, Ives. And now it’s been confirmed.” He reaches for my hand and holds it up to show the ring.

Ives’ face is unyielding. Reason might as well have shown him a gum ball. “And this is a Gift of faith—not of your own will?”

Reason’s doesn’t flinch as he nods. “Yes.”

Ives relaxes. “Then it’s clear: let faith take care of the rest. But you already know this, of course.”

A smile plays around Reason’s mouth as he answers. “Yes, I did. I knew talking with you would help me—” he shoots a glance in my direction, “
solidify
it.”

Wonderful. Our solidified plan is faith. Somehow I hoped for a more definitive plan of action than that.

I hear a soft sniffle. I turn to see Hannah standing at the door. She discreetly wipes a tear from her cheek.

Reason looks form Hannah to Ives. “I came here for your blessing. You’ve been my father, and Hannah my mother, since I was fifteen years old. I wanted you to hear it from me, so that you would understand why.”

Ives reaches for Reason’s hand. “Son, you have our blessing. You are the man we raised you to be. A man of faith worthy of the Gift he bears.”

“I received the Gift once.” Hannah speaks softly as she meets my eyes. “Ives and I come from the Devonshire bloodline. Twins aren’t fertile, and we never marry—never raise families. Instead, we only serve. We’re the elves in folklore—helpers to the Society. But the Gift gave me a precious son when the Society chose our home for Reason.”

Reason rises to his feet and goes to her. She disappears in his large embrace. I see only the top of her small head as he stoops to kiss her cheek. “Ma-ma, don’t cry.”

 And suddenly, I know I really am the temptress that stole Santa. And not just Santa but the son of this sweet barren elf. Can any of this really be good—what they raised him to be? I don’t understand the Gift or the things they say, but I can’t imagine anything good should hurt so many people. How can that be a Gift?

As I watch my gentle giant comfort the woman who loved him before me, I see only my selfishness weighing down on us all. I can’t have faith in that, can I? The world would have been better off if I’d remained in my chair, holding onto my ghosts and my misery.

Alone.

Chapter 20

CITY LIGHTS GLITTER AND TWINKLE along the backdrop of the Rocky Mountains. The sky above seems lighter than the nighttime below it. The moon shines its silvery glow on the surrounding clouds, but the stars aren’t visible tonight. We stand on top of the tallest building in Christmasville. The wind blows on my face, so cold and unforgiving I want to bury myself in Reason’s warmth. He hasn’t told me why we’re here yet.

He scans the network of lights as though he searches for something. A sailor on a ship, looking for stars or the sight of land in a distant shore. Finally, he raises his arm and points. “There, just past the red tower lights. Do you see it?”