Kris (26 page)

“He's a reindeer,” I replied as the reindeer she petted moved his hooves to the rhythm of her scratching.

“Why is he dancing?” she asked with delight.

“I suppose the joy of Christmas has made him merry, not to mention he likes being scratched behind the ears.”

“What's his name?”

“I'm not sure I could pronounce it for you in a word that you would understand.”

“Dancer!” she proclaimed. “I will call him, ‘Dancer'!” And she giggled as the reindeer nibbled the back of her hair and neck.

“I think he likes the name. Now you'd best go to sleep, little one. We don't want your father mad at us, do we?”

She shook her head emphatically and began to shiver as if realizing she stood barefoot in the cold for the first time. As I bent down to lift her, she asked me a sweet and honest question, profound from her simple nature as a child: “How will I know this isn't a dream?”

Little wooden snowflakes hung from the necks of each reindeer's collar and tackle. I removed the snowflake from Dancer's neck and handed it to her so that she might remember and prove to herself this memory.

“Like a snowflake, there is no one in the world like you,” I told her as I lifted her from the snow, carrying her back to the open window. “You are unique.”

“I am?” she asked sincerely.

“Yes, little one,” I replied, “you are special.”

I lifted her and placed her inside the window.

“Santa?” she whispered as she clung to my neck. “I had a dream of Christmas, and you were in it.”

“That's funny,” I told her, laughing, while trying not to wake her brother, “I had a dream of Christmas, and you were in it.”

Letting go, she ran to her bed and dove under the covers.

“Merry Christmas, Santa,” she called back to me.

Merry Christmas, What a beautiful sentiment. I chuckled. Merry Christmas. Yes, it was. Merry because we make it and will it to be so.

“Merry Christmas, Ona.” I replied in a loud whisper.

Then with a start, she sat up in bed.

“You know my name!” She gasped.

I gave her a wink and pushed the window shut. Christmas is much more special when it carries a little magic, and all that is required to create magic is a little mystery.

I leapt into the sleigh as the reindeer readied to charge forward, and once more we were on our way.

Hooves dug deep and pounded the ground in a heavy, steady beat that served as a driving rhythm that urged the team forward. Snow plowed aside, and sleigh runners sent up plumes of ice crystals that twinkled in the moonlight. Reins taut, we sailed over the pristine snow as their bulging muscles flexed and stretched while the sleigh raced ahead at dazzling speed.

Celestial lights washed over the endless snowy white expanse, and we dashed across the glowing landscape.

I stood boldly in the coach, chariot-style, while commanding the team to make haste through the twilight end of night and felt the icy wind kissing and pinching at my cheeks. The flapping panels of my thick, red coat floated through the endless winter wonder around us, which could only be matched in scale by the bountiful wishes we had carried with us for the dawning Christmas Day.

After our long and challenging journey to towns and villages across the land where we shared our gifts of joy, Dancer and my other lead reindeer, whom I had now decided to call Dasher since my meeting with Ona, led the team and me home again to recover and rest. Each of the reindeer on my team had their Sami names, but Ona's naming of Dancer had captured the heart of my antlered steed perfectly, and I decided to name each one in kind. With a little thought, I discovered that I knew the noble names deserved by each of the others; Dasher, Dancer of course, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donder, and Blitzen.

Dasher was simply the fastest in the short run. He had troubled me with many a chase when Pel and I first worked to put the reindeer in harness. We had spent weeks just choosing the finest and most suited from the herd. Prancer was the most beautiful with his flowing white mane. And he walked as if he knew it. Vixen was spirited and sprightly, although she could be fierce with her nipping bite, putting any of my team in place if they crossed her. Comet I named because he would explode through the herd, ramming and throwing any challengers with his magnificent antlers. Cupid, because he was so obviously in love with Vixen—and any other female reindeer that he happened across, for that matter. And of course Donder and Blitzen, which mean, “Thunder,” and, “Lightning,” because they were inseparable and also because they were the power that pulled the sleigh. I called to them by name, and they flew across the land as if delighting in their newly acknowledged identities.

I was thankful we had made such progress in providing presents to so many deserving children, but I knew there was more we could do in future years: more presents, faster progress in making them, and more children we could reach with our mission to spread happiness and celebrate the wonders of Christmas.

Each year our great journey was both tiring and punishing, with the severity of the cold and the complications brought by winter's unflinching grip and the vast distances we had covered. My health was challenged in the weariness I faced once we had returned safely home.

I had left behind my well-intentioned gifts of Christmas toys, but I had also stirred up a sea of question and concern that soon would grow from the excitement Ona and Olaf expressed on Christmas morning.

Unknown to me, a controversy was about to build in a powerful storm that would draw me into its center and envelop my past, present, and future.

In the weak morning light that filtered through the windows of Ona's cabin, young Olaf awoke ready for Christmas day and all the discoveries it would bring. He quickly opened the window to see what secrets he might uncover, plucking two wrapped gifts from the sill, then ran back to rouse Ona from her sleep to share his exhilaration.

“Ona! Ona! Look, see,” he exclaimed as he jumped onto her bed and shook her awake.

Ona rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she crawled out of bed and ran into the main room after Olaf. They danced with glee at the joy they felt this Christmas morning.

“They're gonna be even better than last year,” Olaf shouted as he heard a loud STOMP outside, near the cabin's front door.

The door swung open, and their father, Jacob, a sturdy, work-hardened family man of some thirty years, stood in the doorway. He stomped again to loosen the snow from his boots and watched the children celebrating their unknown presents.

“That's enough, Olaf,” Jacob said firmly. “You know the rules. The Christmas gathering first, and then you can open and play with the stranger's gifts.”

Jacob's wife, Johanna, admonished him sweetly. “Jacob,” she said. “Let them play.”

Johanna's softer, gentler, demeanor was often used to temper Jacob's tendency toward abrupt communication with the children.

He approached her slowly while she continued stirring a bowl of pudding batter with a wooden spoon.

“It is my house and my family.” And then he sniffed at the air. “Do I smell pudding?”

Jacob quickly grabbed at Johanna and tickled her. Giggling, she escaped from the room to finish her preparation of the food they would bring to the great Christmas feast that was to be held in the assembly room of the village church.

Jacob took the packaged gifts from a pouting Olaf and placed them high on the mantle over the fireplace. “That's no face for Christmas Day,” he said sincerely. Then he held out two closed hands, giving Olaf first choice at the surprise he was hiding inside them.

Olaf tapped one hand and waited.

Jacob slowly opened his fingers to reveal a mighty chunk of rock candy.

Olaf scooped it up and popped the sweet into his mouth, while he looked longingly at the mysterious toys that had been taken from him.

“That's something you won't find on a windowsill,” Jacob said earnestly. “Now don't tell your mother.” Then he called to Ona, “Come on, Winklet.” Jacob picked Ona up, gave her a tender hug, and rubbed noses with her.

“Daddy! Merry Christmas,” Ona said softly to her father.

Lifting her high in the air and tossing her, he questioned her playfully with a chuckle. “Merry Christmas? Merry Christmas? What is this Merry Christmas, Winklet?”

“Where is it?” Ona asked breathlessly, giggling heartily, pulling at her father's coat.

“What?” Jacob teased her in return.

“Stop it, Daddy,” Ona laughingly insisted.

“All right,” Jacob said. He set his wriggling daughter down and explored the depths of his pockets. “Well, now. Let's see here. Nothing in that pocket.”

Ona watched him carefully in an effort to discover where the candy was hidden.

“Maybe there's something over here,” Jacob said. “Oh! What's this? What's this?”

Jacob held out a clenched hand and opened it slowly to reveal three pieces of candy.

Distracted, Ona ignored the candy and pointed to the undiscovered toys on the mantle that had once more caught her attention. “Let's see what Santa brought me, Daddy,” she cried out with delight, running for the presents.

Forgotten, Jacob closed his hand and returned the sweets to his pocket. A sense of jealousy overtook him as he watched his children roughhouse near the toys.

“Who's ready for pudding?” Johanna called from the doorway.

“Ona, Olaf. Your mother has finished the pudding. Come along now.”

But Ona and Olaf continued to wrestle on the floor.

“What did I get? What did I get?” Ona said.

“Santa didn't bring you anything!” Olaf answered unmercifully.

“He did too! I saw him leave the toys.”

“No, you didn't.”

“Yes I did. I even went outside to meet his reindeer,” Ona shouted at him. And she waited to see his reaction.

“Ona, what did you say?” her father asked with concern from across the room.

“I saw him,” Ona said timidly.

“Did not,” Olaf mocked.

“Did too. I talked to him.”

Jacob looked to his wife with an expression of anger. “Ona,, come closer,” he said to her solemnly.

Jacob grabbed Ona by the wrist and covered the side of her face with the palm of his hand. He then pulled down each of her lower eyelids with his thumb and forefinger, searching for signs of plague. His steely eyes examined her intensely.

“Open your mouth, Ona,” Jacob instructed.

“Did I do something wrong?” Ona asked with a mystified look.

“Ona! Listen to me!” Jacob said sternly.

“Jacob! You are scaring her,” Johanna said. Then she called to the children. “Come on Ona, it's time to go. Olaf?”

The children retreated to their mother's side, and Ona clung to Johanna's hip as she led them away.

Jacob was left standing alone in the main room looking at the colorful toys that had been brought by the visiting stranger called Santa.

At the Christmas feast, a gathering of jovial townspeople sat ready to eat, filling rows of wooden benches that framed decorated tables covered with platters of warm breads, big bowls of nuts and berries, fresh cheeses and roasted meats, chunks of cod, thick, fragrant puddings, pies, and mounds of cookies and candies, along with Christmas cakes that rested beside large pitchers of fresh milk.