Kate’s voice broke a bit at the end and Dom’s heart started galloping in response. He’d no idea she felt that way, even as just a friend. In truth, it was his fault they’d lost touch in the last few years. She thought it was her myopic tendency for studying, but he had made a concerted effort to create distance out of self-preservation.
“I’ve missed you too, Skate,” he confessed.
“Ugh, that dumb nickname…” she responded.
She pushed her unruly hair behind her ears and rolled her eyes. Then she slapped him on his thigh in an impatient manner.
“Pittsburg and Isabel didn’t deserve you anyway. If you move back here, you could consider it a public service. You’ll be raising the Good Men per capita of Nebraska. It’s our slogan and all.”
“Huh,” he managed to say around the growing lump in his throat. “And here I thought it was ‘The Good Life’.”
“Same difference,” she said with a cheeky grin and a quick shrug.
He looked down at her hand still resting on his knee. She snatched her hand back with a quick, soft huff, like an unformed laugh. He looked back up. Her cheeks had flooded red but she didn’t drop his gaze.
He deliberately turned his head and studied the Christmas tree; cheerful yet lonely with just a few presents underneath. There was something different in her eyes, and paired with her affectionate words, it gave him the stirrings of hope. Hope was something he hadn’t allowed himself in years. And if he was being honest, he hadn’t made it clear since they were teenagers that he wanted to be more than friends. Now that he thought about it, maybe moving back to Nebraska wouldn’t be about hitting bottom. Maybe it could be about new beginnings.
He looked back at her and grinned, not one of his we’ve-known-each-other-for-years friendly grins, but one of his how-you-doin’ grins. It always made the ones who were interested flustered, and the ones who weren’t, at least snort in good humor. He had never actually tried it on Kate.
Her flush deepened and she sprang up from the couch. She rubbed her hands on her legs and laughed slightly. Then she looked around the room in an absentminded manner.
Huh… how about that, he thought.
“I better get back next door before we get the local tongues wagging,” Kate said breathlessly. “You coming over for Christmas dinner?”
His grin got wider and he nodded.
Her brows contracted briefly. “Why are you smiling at me like that?”
He just shrugged, saying nothing. He was enjoying her discomfort. She looked not just flustered, but confused, and confused was something he could work with.
Yeah, there just might be reason to hope, after all…
He walked her to the door and indulged himself with an extra-long hug. Then he relaxed on the couch again and let his mind mull over Katelyn’s tell-tale flush. Maybe she didn’t think of him as boyfriend material yet, but there was definite potential to change her mind.
“So you’re moving back home, huh?”
Dominic rolled over so quickly he fell off the couch.
“Fmpblllltsh!” The carpet muffled his curse; a good thing since his father didn’t tolerate cursing in his home.
“Haaaah,” Dom finished his moan of pain as he rolled over. “Hey, Dad. What, uh, what makes you say that?”
“Well, that’s what the little Anderson girl was saying.”
“Yeah, Dad, she hasn’t been ‘little’ in quite some time,” Dom countered.
“Ok, youngest of the gaggle. Whatever,” Vincent Valentini waved a dismissive hand. “Guess if there’s gonna be all this yakkin’, might as well start the day.”
He walked towards the kitchen, flipped the light on, and started brewing coffee. Dom limped after him.
“Hey, son, what a nice surprise. Good to see you,” Dom muttered under his breath.
As soon as he sat at the kitchen table, he said a little louder, “I haven’t actually decided to move back. Exactly how much did you hear?”
“Enough to offer my congratulations.”
“Con—what?”
“I’m glad you finally saw the light. Would have preferred it to be before the wedding, but, hey, better late than never, eh?”
Vincent turned around and popped Dom on the shoulder.
“So… you’re ok with it?” Dom wondered.
“I’m ok wit’ it,” Vincent said gruffly.
He handed Dom a coffee mug.
“I was thinking you and Mom were going to freak out about the divorce…”
“Oh, your nonna’s gonna freak, sure, but me and your mother? Nah. You know what’s disappointin’, son? Watching you let your dreams slip away.”
“What do you mean? I was playing for the Steelers! Most college players don’t even make it to the Draft. I didn’t choose to have a knee injury—”
“Don’t be dense,” Vincent interrupted. “I don’t care about that. I’m talking about that girl who just left. The one you’re never able to keep your eyes off of. I don’t understand why you’re content to moon after her like a martyr instead of just puttin’ a ring on it already.”
“Put a ring…” Dom paused, pinching his nose.
He took a deep breath, reminding himself his father was from a very different generation.
“Dad, Kate and I are friends. Even if I were to—”
“No, here’s what you do,” Vincent interrupted again. “You take this week to start laying the ground work with her and then you get your affairs in order, and move back home. It’s not defeat if it’s something you want anyway.”
“Dad, I don’t even have a job lined up…”
Vincent clapped Dominic on the shoulder and chuckled.
“Son, the world’s full of signs if you’re just open to them. This is a sign it’s time to move back home and go for it with her, I’m telling you.”
Dom opened his mouth, but his reply was cut short by the sound of his mother’s voice.
“Vinnie? Who are you talking to?” Ramona shouted from down the hall. “Turn the oven on, would ya? I have to get started on the casserole I told Bridgette we’d bring for Christmas dinner.”
Vincent and Dominic shared a grimace and got to work. Valentini-Anderson joint holiday dinners were a tradition of chaos, overeating, bickering and insanity—insanity because they all kept doing it year after year despite the first three components. Everyone by this point knew never to stand in the way of Ramona Valentini and Bridgette Anderson’s deeply competitive friendship.
Dom managed to make it through his mother’s fussing and nagging in the morning, and the crazy Christmas dinner next door, all on zero hours of sleep. Feeling punchy and mellow, Dominic ducked the rest of the guests and waited by Kate’s back door for her to try sneaking out as she did every year.
“Going somewhere?” he asked, grinning at her guilty flush.
“Just to my office to take advantage of no one being there and fight through this stupor. I swear our mothers always feed us like they’re going to eat us later.”
“Yeah, nothing says ‘tis the season’ like gluttony,” he agreed.
He grabbed a football from a box in the mud room, tossed it up briefly, then tucked it under his arm. He stepped so close she had to tilt her head up to keep his gaze.
“Wanna help me burn off those calories instead?” he asked with a suggestive tone.
She flushed and blinked. Then her eyes dropped to the football and she laughed.
“Dom, honestly… you’re such a flirt. A girl might accidentally take you seriously,” she replied with a finger waggle.
Dropping her satchel, she snatched the ball out of his arms, and walked out the door.
He shook his head at her back. It was looking like getting out of the friend zone was going to be harder than getting into the end zone.
She stopped abruptly and pivoted back around. “Are you sure? Are your knees up to it?”
“If not, you can always nurse me back to health…” he bantered.
She snorted
and rolled her eyes before heading out into the yard.
As soon as he shut the door, his phone buzzed. He fished it out and saw a text from his old high school coach:
Hey Dom, heard from Mrs. D you were back in town. Can you come over later? Have a job opp. next fall here at the school I wanted to float by you. Before you say no, just hear me out, OK? Dave
Dom raised his eyes to look out across the yard at Kate, squinting from the glare of the snow reflecting the sun.
The world’s full of signs… he heard his father’s voice whisper.
It would take him time to sell his place, but if he played it right, he could be here for the start of the school year. Then he could begin his campaign to win the Girl Next Door’s heart.
“Ready for the sweet taste of defeat, Valentini?” Kate asked. She had an adorable and not at all intimidating sneer on her face.
He shook his head with a chuckle. “My first order of business when I move back will be teaching you how to talk smack properly.”
Her face lit up. “So you’re coming back for sure?”
“For sure,” he answered softly.
“Eee!” she squealed, tackling him.
He deliberately let their bodies hit the ground, hugging her tight and enjoying the feel of her pressed against him.
“Best Christmas ever!” Katelyn continued breathlessly.
Snow speckled on her hair like tinsel in the bright sunshine. Her cheeks had a rosy glow against her porcelain skin.
He smiled and tucked her hair behind her ears.
Sweet taste of defeat, indeed.
“Merry Christmas, Skate,” Dominic said. “You realize, of course, even without my two front knees, I’m going to kick your—”
He broke off as her delighted laughter filled the yard.
No, the ‘Best Christmas Ever’ is yet to come, babe. I promise, he thought with a grin.
The End
SANTA’S CHRISTMAS SURPRISE
Ginny Bryce
It is Saturday and the second Christmas Joe McGuire has taken the job of Santa Claus at Macy’s. He is an electrician by trade. He enjoys little children, and the extra money goes into the bank for a trip to see his daughter Ashley in England.
The day has been long, and jostling Christmas shoppers jangled the electric nerves of the air-conditioning system, turning its cool breath into tropical warmth.
Santa’s throne sits on a small stage, embellished with red and gold swags and covered with imitation snow. A tall, green Christmas tree, loaded with twinkling lights, multicolored bulbs, gold glitter and pretty angels, stands beside the stage. Beneath it are many brightly wrapped packages.
A miniature Swiss chalet occupies the left side of Santa’s throne, hiding a camera. Another jolly helper, dressed in a green suit and a large pointed hat, stands inside the house to capture the event on film.
Two elves in green and brown costumes help the little children to and from their momentous meeting with Santa Claus.
“Merry Christmas, my little man, have you minded your mother all year?”
“Yes,” he mumbles.
“That’s a good boy.” Santa strokes his large, white beard. “Now, what would you like me to bring you for Christmas?”
“Oh, a bicycle, and…and… games.”
“I will put those on my list.” Joe McGuire hands the sandy-haired lad a lollipop and pats his head as the child wriggles off his lap. He readjusts his red Santa’s suit before receiving the next child in line. He wishes he could mop his forehead that is hidden under a full white wig. Joe looks down the long line of children standing with their parents waiting their turn to see Santa. His eyes stop briefly on the back of a woman dressed in an elegant black wool suit, topped with a small fur collar. She stands tall and straight as a model, her dark hair swept up in a chignon.
A small girl stands beside her. Joe feels an agitation within from some past ignored memory. He meets the lively eyes of the little girl staring at him in awe. A pretty child, with long, blond hair curling to her shoulders; the large blue bow clipped to her shiny hair matches the blue of her expensive, well-cut coat. Her hands are clasped in excitement. Joe thought, she’s just about Ashley’s age.
His eyes take in the row of people: tiny ones in their parents’ arms, toddlers clinging to their mothers, and preschool children dashing about. Here and there in line an older child waits whose belief in Santa had not yet been crushed by older children.
“Ho, ho, little lady. Have you been a good girl all year?”
“Yes, Santa.”
“That’s a good girl. What do you want Santa to bring you for Christmas?”
The girl’s dark pony tail swings back and forth as she rattles off numerous toys she wants for Christmas.
“I’ll stop by your house on Christmas Eve,” he said and she slipped off his knee.
The next little boy in line appears about to cry as his mother tugs him up onto the stage.
“Come and see me, son,” Joe coaxes and pats his knee. The boy buries his face in his mother’s dress and peeks around a fold in the garment. Joe holds a lollipop just out of reach of the boy until he can’t resist the familiar candy. He toddles toward Joe and unconsciously rests against his knee, his eyes still on the candy. Joe asks the mother his name, and then says in a soft voice, “How are you, Aiden?” Recognizing his name, the boy looks at Joe.
“What do you want Santa to bring you for Christmas?”
“Candy, candy,” he replies.
“Well, all right,” Joe chuckles, “Santa will bring you some candy for Christmas.” He hands the lollipop to the boy who runs off to the safety of his mother.
He again scans the line. The well-dressed woman has turned and is bent over to talk to the little girl. The agitation returns. As he watches, the woman looks up. A cold shiver runs down his back. Francine! He almost shouts the name. With stunned expectation, his eyes dart to the child. Ashley, my baby, Ashley. A punctured sigh escapes from his lips. His heart seems to stop beating. The clock on the wall strikes three.
“Ho, ho, my little man, have you been a good boy all year?” The words flow without interruption from one child to the next. He counts the children before Ashley. Eight more! What will she say to me? But it isn’t me, he thought, it’s Santa. As he performs Santa’s ritual, his mind flies to the past with laser swiftness. Memories cascade through his mind.
A Lieutenant in the Air Force, he was stationed in England when he met Francine. On several occasions, her wealthy father, Frank Baldwin, entertained Joe’s group at his country estate. When he told her father he wished to marry Francine, Baldwin cautioned him about her.
“Raised without a mother, Francine is spoiled and selfish, Joe. Unless you can provide a similar life-style,” her father warned him, “Francine is apt to become dissatisfied.”
Baldwin was against the marriage. Joe overheard him say to a friend, “She is only marrying the uniform. A pleasant enough chap, but the boy has nothing.”
However, Francine was determined to marry him and, with a willful shrug of her shoulders, decided that the future would take care of itself.
After they were married, Francine remained with her father, until his discharge from the Air Force. Then they settled in New York.
It was an adventure at first. New York fascinated Francine, and the small apartment was a challenge. But before long, the pleasures of being a housewife faded and Francine tired of her meager budget. Her friends were few in New York. When she found she was pregnant, her disenchantment grew.
For several days they quarreled. The electricians were on strike and no money was coming in. One evening, Francine announced she was going home to her father and taking one-year-old Ashley with her. He could not dissuade her. A year later she demanded a divorce and obtained it in England. Joe asked her to come back to the States so he could see Ashley, but her fleet of lawyers informed him that Francine and Ashley were remaining in England. He sent money regularly for the care of Ashley, but
his letters were unanswered, his telephone calls ignored. Four years had passed since he had seen his daughter. Times had been tough. The economy was in recession and jobs were few.
I wonder why they’re in New York, he thought. Are they looking for me? Maybe the Christmas spirit changed Francine. He wants to shout, “I’m here! I’m here!”
Ashley was next. When his eyes meet Francine’s, she showed no recognition. Ashley is graceful as she walks up the stairs. It is evident she has received excellent training from Francine. Not shy, her eyes sparkle as she climbs readily into his lap.
“What would you like for Christmas, my dear?” Santa is as excited as the child. I’m your daddy, my darling, he wants to say.
Ashley looks up at him and smiles. “Please, Santa, will you bring me a Daddy?”
His heart blazes. It’s true. She brought Ashley to see me! His smile widens beneath the white froth. “Where is your daddy, child?”
“My Daddy died a long time ago.”
His breathing stops. For a moment he is speechless. Earnestly, he searches his child’s face. Am I am dead to Ashley? Is there is no Joe McGuire in her life? Don’t I exist outside of Santa’s costume? I can tell her that I am her father, but that is absurd, she will not believe that Santa is her father.
Tears well in his eyes and he looks into her eager face. He sighs, “Santa will see what he can do.” He was silent for a moment and then asks, “My dear, where are you staying in New York?”
“At the Carlyle.”
A large smile fills Santa’s face. “Yes. You shall have a Daddy before long.” She hops off his knee, accepting the lollipop with a smile and a thank you, and runs to her mother.
Santa muses, Christmas will be happy. Ashley will know her father, Joe McGuire.
The End
AXE MAN
Jessica Knauss
Alexa and Mark decided to go to the grocery store for milk together since he had the day off. They might as well spend every free moment with each other because they had no friends in the community and, this year, their families were thousands of miles away.
Already, at the beginning of November, the Christmas decorations festooned the entry and every aisle red, green, and white and the music crowded the air. They’d found the milk and were choosing among the pudding flavors when a man dressed in sweatpants with an empty basket appeared at the end of the aisle. Alexa gathered that Mark knew him because, typically friendly, Mark waved and said hello.