McDonald_NoELFngWay_GEN_Dec2015 (9 page)

Blix sighed. God bless young people for their blunt honesty with each other. “Thank you for telling me that, Vixen. I hadn’t gotten up the nerve to ask Dash what he thought. I’ve dropped all the hints I can drop to Cupid. I’m going to have to eventually declare myself.”

Vixen waved his anxiety away. “Cupid likes you, Uncle Blix. She’s being cautious because of Dash and Nicky relying on her so much. I think Cupid is going to need some sort of grand gesture. Since you’ve known each other for so long… and known each other’s spouses… she’s going to need a very big sign that she’s meant to date you.”

“Really? How big a sign? Are we talking Times Square marquee big or a bit smaller?” Blix joked.

Vixen giggled. “You always could make me laugh. Listen, I think you need to write a letter to Santa. Tell him all about how you feel about Cupid Sleigh. My fix is going to cost me nearly that entire payment you just wrote out to me, so I might as well get a twofer for the money.”

Eyebrows raised, Blix handed her the costume rental check. “You should have made me pay full price instead discounting all those Santa and elf suits then.”

Vixen smiled. “Probably. Hindsight is always 20/20.”

“Indeed it is,” Blix said nodding. “So if you’re fixing Christmas for everybody, are you and Dancer included in that group?”

Vixen shrugged. “If this works, I’ll never have to deal with Dasher Sleigh again. That will be the best present I could ask for. Dancer is getting a dollhouse. We’re going to be fine… just like always. Thank you for caring, Uncle Blix.”

“Vixen… he may not know it yet, but you would be good for the boy,” Blix said.

Vixen nodded. “Thanks. From what I could tell, Nicky’s a good boy already. I have to hand it to him, Dash is a really good parent.”

“I wasn’t talking about Nicky—I was talking about Dash,” Blix said. “Everyone under forty is a kid to me.”

Vixen put the check in her purse and stood. “I haven’t felt like a kid since I was one. Thanks for talking to me. Our conversations help me put things into perspective.”

“When are you going to need your getaway car?”

“I’ll send you a schedule when I get things worked out,” Vixen said. “It should only take an hour of your time.”

“
Nicky Santa
.”

Cupid’s head turned in the direction of the voice. Before she could locate the speaker, Dancer had tackled Nicky for a hug he hadn’t seen coming and now couldn’t escape.

Her sputtering laughter over her grandson’s helpless expression earned her a glare, but he also closed his eyes blissfully. She couldn’t blame Nicky for liking to be adored. Everyone loved that, no matter what age they were.

“I missed you, Nicky Santa,” Dancer declared loudly. “I never got to see your train. Can I come to your house again?”

Cupid felt very proud when Nicky chuckled nervously and extracted himself gently from Dancer’s arms.

“Is your mommy elfing today, Dancer?” Cupid asked, trying to distract her from Nicky.

Her tiny nod was brisk. She turned and pointed to the Santa area.

“That’s not the real Santa. He’s an ubstitute… but we went to see him yesterday. He let me pull on his beard when I asked him if it came off. But it didn’t. He just laughed and said it was okay that I wasn’t sure.”

Nicky’s eyebrows shot up. “Did you go to the North Pole?”

Dancer scrunched up her face. “I don’t know. I think it was Santa’s office.”

“Santa doesn’t have an office. He has a toy factory,” Nicky said matter-of-factly.

Dancer’s head shook hard. “No. He has a desk and omputer.”

“A
com
puter?” Cupid prompted, offering the right word. Dancer’s answer was another vigorous head shake.

“And sometimes he doesn’t wear his suit to work in the office. He wears it only when he’s being real. When I was little, we used to go see him all the time. Now we just go at Christmas. Mommy took your letter to him, Nicky Santa. He put it in his pocket.”

Cupid looked at her grandson who was looking back at her. They were both confused.

“So… you and your Mommy took Nicky’s letter to the real Santa yesterday,” Cupid repeated, trying to get clear on the facts of Dancer’s story.

Two little fists went to her hips. “Yes. That’s what I just said. Weren’t you listening?”

“Oh yes...” Cupid assured her, “I was listening. I’m just old. People my age have a lot of problems believing in the real Santa.”

“Well, he believes in you,” Dancer said firmly. “Mommy gave him a letter for you too, Nicky Santa’s Mima Cupid.”

Cupid chuckled. The girl appended titles to names every chance she got. It would be interesting to see what she grew up to be one day. “But I didn’t write a letter.”

“Well, somebody did. Your name was in it because I heard Mommy and Santa talking about Cupid. You are the
only
Cupid.”

Cupid laughed again, but thought the girl was close to being right. Not many people were named Cupid.

“Nicky Santa, did you bring a letter for this Santa too?” Dancer asked.

Cupid fought back the amusement when Nicky lifted his last letter copy and sighed.

“Yes. This is my last one.”

Dancer shrugged as she peeked at the words. “I don’t read yet. You should just give it to Mommy. She’ll take it to the real Santa for you.”

Cupid felt her heart clench when Nicky looked up at her with uncertainty in his gaze. “I’m sure the letter will get to Santa no matter who delivers it,” she said solemnly.

“Dancer Dunder—no more running away from me.”

A guilty-looking Dancer ducked her head. “Sorry, Booma. Please don’t tell Mommy. She won’t let me come back.”

Cupid exchanged a look with Booma. “She probably just ran over to us because she recognized us.”

“That and she has a bit of a crush on the little mister there,” Booma said quietly.

No dummy to nuance, or to listening to adults when it suited him, Cupid saw her grandson roll his eyes. Booma and Dancer walked away, the little girl skipping in excitement.

“Mima? Are all girls crazy?” Nicky asked.

Cupid sputtered, but finally gave in to her laughter. “Yes. But we’re all worth it, Nicky Santa.”

“I know. That’s what I mean. Dancer makes me laugh, but I think I would rather have a brother,” Nicky said around a wicked grin.

“Sure. We could always adopt one,” Cupid said matter-of-factly, trying to match her grandson’s seriousness about the subject.

“Dad is really busy at work. I think we need to find a mother first,” Nicky said sadly. “I think I’ll give this letter to the Santa guy. Just in case Dancer is wrong. Maybe she was making that stuff up.”

“Maybe,” Cupid agreed. “You never know with little girls.”

Nicky nodded his head as he got in line. “Maybe if I called her Dancer Reindeer, she would stop calling me Nicky Santa.”

“Maybe,” Cupid said again, more subdued about it this time.

Behind her too-wise grandson’s head, she sighed as she wished Dash were in a better frame of mind to deal with his son’s first attempt to move past his grief.

***

After his last Santa shift, Dash packed his costume into its carrying case, patting the Santa belly one final time for luck. His best memories about wearing it were of Vixen helping him get into the costume that first day. Since then, he’d shrugged in and out of it a dozen times.

In the last couple of weeks, he’d heard dozens of childish wishes—some as heart-wrenching as Nicky’s.

And it was like Vixen said, there wasn’t much you could do for them in such a brief period time. You could only send them away with a positive thought that maybe the wish might come true.

Dash sighed one final time as he hung the Santa suit on a rolling clothes rack Sacks-Rudolph had provided to collect them. Today was the final day. His volunteer work was done. He would always think fondly of it because it had brought Vixen back into his life. In their renewed relationship, he’d learned another hard life lesson about how much he’d shut out the world after Melody died.

When he turned at the sound of the door opening, Vixen walked in and looked directly into his eyes. Dash had the bizarre thought that somehow he’d conjured her with his thoughts.

She was wearing jeans and cowboy boots again. This time she’d paired them with a white blouse and a bright green button-up sweater sporting a light-up Santa pin. She looked huggable and soft and like every secret wish he’d had for the last two years.

It was all he could do not to walk straight to her and tell her so.

Dash blurted out the apology hovering on his tongue. “I’m sorry, Vixen. I truly never meant to hurt your feelings. Nicky was all I was thinking about the other day.”

“It’s understandable. You’re a father. And our seeing each other was bad timing… just like you said.”

Vixen knew she looked as uncomfortable as she felt as she walked around him. She had absolutely no walls strong enough to block out the attraction she felt.

“It’s over and done. Don’t worry about it any more.”

Dash nodded to agree. He didn’t want to destroy the fragile peace that had her talking to him again. “Need help carrying out the costumes?”

Vixen sighed. She wanted to say no, but the Santa suits
were
heavy. Her pride warred with her practical side and lost. “Sure. There’s a panel van out back. Hang them on the extended rack. I have to wait for the final shift to be over, but it would be nice to have the rest all loaded when that happens.”

Dash grabbed a few in each hand. Vixen grabbed the same amount. They trekked quietly down the side of the Santa area.

He watched Lynda in her elf costume greeting a child. She had volunteered to pull a double-shift this last time, probably because she was trying to date their new technologist who was currently playing Santa. It was a relief to him that Lynda had turned her interest elsewhere. He was glad it had been because of Vixen.

But he couldn’t help but notice Vixen hadn’t spared the woman a glance. There hadn’t been enough time in their brief intimacy to reassure her that Lynda truly meant nothing to him. He regretted that more than anything. He regretted that he’d ever made Vixen feel for one minute like he hadn’t wanted only her.

Because he had wanted only her… and still did. He had no chemistry with anyone else or any inclination to experiment with dating.

They hung up the suits, then made a silent trek back to the room for another set. Two trips later all the hanging suits had been loaded. He could have said goodnight and left, but he made the trip back to the staging room with her once again.

Vixen immediately sat in the Santa prop chair while he stood in the middle of the room feeling awkward. He didn’t want this weird exchange to be the last one they ever had.

“I don’t suppose you’d want to get some dinner next door while you wait for the last two suits.”

“Damn Dash. You really don’t have many boundaries, do you?” Vixen laughed at her bold statement. She was no longer inclined to be polite to him. “When people break up, it means they don’t have dinner together just because it seems convenient.”

“I didn’t want to break up,” Dash said, his tone serious. “I just wanted to wait until my son dealt with the fact he wasn’t going to get a mother for Christmas.”

“And you especially did not want Nicky considering
me
as his possible mother.”

Dash ran a hand through his hair. Shit. He hadn’t said that… had he?

“Is that what you thought I meant?”

Vixen sighed. “Yes. Because it’s what you said… and implied by wanting to make sure I wasn’t around your family during the holidays so my presence couldn’t be misconstrued by your child. That led me to then conclude us having sex was just something left-over from the past, something you wished you’d done way back when. Maybe I’d wished it too. I liked you way more in college than I ever let you know, especially after your jackass friends got involved. Young love is often foolish. I thought I was over that old disappointment enough to give us another chance as adults. This week you proved me wrong.”

Dash swallowed. “I can’t believe you thought all those awful things about what I said. I was just trying to protect my son from the biggest disappointment he’s had since I had to tell him his mother was never coming home again.”

“I know… and I understand. But one thing I’ve learned is being afraid won’t stop life’s pain from happening to you. You broke my heart in college and Dancer’s father followed in your footsteps. I thought I was immune from that level of hurt until you walked into the shop the other day and asked for a freaking…
pause
.”

Dash felt his chest get tight and his head started to throb. “I didn’t say that to hurt you. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. I was just afraid… probably for myself as much as for Nicky.”

Vixen shrugged. “I hear what you’re saying, but did it occur to you that maybe when you stop being so afraid, Nicky won’t have to write imploring letters to Santa? I got counseling and started dating again. Maybe you should give grief counseling a try. Just because we didn’t work out doesn’t mean you won’t find someone eventually who will be worth your trouble.”

Dash shook his head. “No. I didn’t mean to make you feel any of that. And I don’t want to date… I mean I do want to date… but just you. You wouldn’t listen when I tried to explain.”

Vixen nodded. “I’m sure it seemed like I wasn’t listening because all you could see were your own problems. I rejected your suggestion of
a pause
to protect me and Dancer from the next time you decide to solve your problems by removing us from your life. I won’t subject either one of us to such a terrible cycle. You never even asked me for an opinion about your situation. You just wanted away from me any way it could be arranged.”

Dash walked across the room and leaned back against the wall. He slid down it until he was sitting on the floor. “I… I thought what I had decided was best. I thought I was sparing you and Dancer from Nicky’s emotional problems. I really did think I could ride out this situation and date you again in January.”

“Except that none of your decisions addressed my feelings, my hurt, or showed any appreciation for the risks I took, especially in sharing your bed. What you did was only the right answer for you,” Vixen said softly. “My daughter and I need someone who is going to include us, not exclude us. We know all about being shut out.”