Years (42 page)

“Theeth my cuzzint!” Roseanne exclaimed.

“She is! Well, what do you know about that.”

Frances came forward to accept her bag, and Roseanne dipped in for another. There was one for each child in the room, even those not yet attending school. Each of the young ones sat on Santa’s knee and was given his personal approval. Linnea watched one after the other dig into their gift bags and pull out rosy red apples, green popcorn balls, peanuts, and peppermint sticks. Someone — she realized, gratified — had done a lot of planning. And someone else — Linnea studied the Santa whose cheeks glowed red with rouge and whose eyes twinkled gaily as he doled out the sacks to the tiny tykes on his knee — had done some extra studying to be able to read all those names. Her eyes glowed with pride, not only for Theodore who made such a marvelous Santa, but for the older children who gamely played along. Even Allen Severt accepted a gift, though he dragged his feet as he went to get it. Linnea was watching him when she heard her name being called and looked up in surprise.

Her gaze met the familiar brown eyes beneath the bushy white eyebrows. “Got one here says Miss Brandonberg on it,” Theodore stated in a forced bass.

“For me?” She pressed her chest with her hands and chuckled nervously.

Santa glanced conspiratorially at the cherubic faces around him. “I think Miss Brandonberg should come up here on Santa’s lap and tell him if she’s been a good girl, don’t you?”

“Yeah!” they all chorused, jumping and clapping. “Yeah! Yeah!”

Before she could protest, Linnea found her hands captured. Resisting all the way, she was led toward the merrily dancing eyes of Santa Westgaard. “Come on up here, Miss Brandonberg.” He patted his knee, snagged her hand, and hauled her onto his lap while she blushed so brightly she wished she could crawl into his sack and draw the string over her head. “There now.” Theodore bounced her a time or two and the bells jingled. She lost her balance and grasped his shoulder while his steadying hand stole to her waist. “Tell me, young lady, have you been good?” The children howled in laughter, joined by the adults.

She braved a look into his mischievous eyes. “Oh, the very best.”

He glanced at the children for confirmation. “Has she been good?”

They nodded enthusiastically and Roseanne piped up, “Thee let uth make thoop!”

“Thoop?” he repeated.

Everyone howled and Theodore’s hand seemed to burn into Linnea’s waist.

“Then she should get her present. But first, Miss Brandonberg, give Santa a little kiss on the cheek.”

She wanted to die of embarrassment, but she dutifully leaned over and pecked his warm cheek above the wiry whiskers that smelled strongly of mothballs. Under the guise of the kiss, she whispered, “I’ll get you for this, Theodore.”

When she pulled back he was handing her a rectangular brown package. His eyes glinted merrily and his lips looked rosy against the snowy beard and mustache. For a brief moment his hand squeezed her waist. Under cover of the noisy crowd he ordered, “Don’t open it here.”

He set her on her feet and the place broke into raucous applause as he grunted his way off the chair, took up the empty bag, then, escorted by the gleeful children, made his way to the door. There he paused, turned, gave them all a wave, and bellowed, “Merrrry Christmas!”

There was no doubt about it: his appearance had made the
evening an unqualified success. Children and adults alike were in gay, laughing moods as refreshment time came. Moving through the guests, sharing hellos and holiday greetings, Linnea kept one eye on the door. She found Superintendent Dahl and put in a request for a soup kettle and a wooden clothes rack, but while she was explaining what she needed them for, Theodore reappeared and her words trailed away into silence. His eyes sought her out immediately and she felt as if they were the only two in the room. His cheeks were shiny and bright, chapped pink — Lord, had he washed at that icy well? His hair was inexpertly combed and there was a bit of straw on the shoulder of his jacket — and had he changed clothes out on a wagon? It struck her that there were qualities in Theodore she had scarcely tapped. Never before had she guessed how good he’d be with little children. He would be that way with their own, if only...

She blushed, turned away and took a bite of marzipan.

They met near the refreshment table some minutes later. She sensed him at her shoulder and gave a quick backward glance, then poured him a hot cup of coffee. In an undertone she teased, “Santa Claus had
lutefisk
on his breath.” Turning, she offered him the cup. “A little something to cover it up, and to take the sting out of those icy cheeks.”

He laughed softly, looking down at her. “Thank you, Miss Brandonberg.” She wished no one else were in the room, that she could kiss more than his cheek, in more than gratitude. She wondered what was inside the brown package, and if he’d miss her after all while she was gone. But she couldn’t stand here all night, riveting her attention solely on him. There were other guests.

“Don’t mention it, Mr. Claus,” she returned quietly, then reluctantly moved off to visit with someone else.

In the cloakroom Kristian and Ray were secreted in a corner, rehashing the Santa Claus scene and Miss Brandonberg’s part in it when a feminine voice intruded, “Excuse me.”

They both swung around to find Patricia Lommen behind them.

The two boys glanced at each other, then stared at her. She wore her auburn hair caught up at the top of her head in a wide red bow. Her dress was gray and red plaid with a high round
collar, and for the play she had rouged her cheeks and darkened her eyebrows slightly.

“Could I talk to you alone for a minute, Kristian?”

Raymond said, “Well, I’ll just go in and have some hot chocolate,” and left the two of them alone.

Kristian stuffed his hands into his pockets and watched Patricia as she made sure the door was closed then crossed to his corner of the cloakroom. “I have a Christmas gift for you, Kristian.” She brought it from behind her back — a balsam-green package with a dotted-swiss bow.

“F... for me?”

“Yes.” She looked up brightly.

“B... but why?”

She shrugged. “Does there have to be a reason?”

“Well... gosh, I... gee... for me?” He accepted the gift, gawking at it self-consciously. As he took the delicate box he became aware of how ridiculously big his hands seemed to have grown this last year, with knuckles the size of baseballs.

He looked up to find her staring into his eyes, and his heart lurched into a queer, dancing beat. He’d been noticing things about her lately — how good she was with the younger children while directing the Thanksgiving play; what a perfect madonna she made, standing on the other side of the cradle in the manger scene; how her pretty brown eyes tilted up at the corners and had thick, black lashes; how her hair was always washed and curled and her nails neatly trimmed. And she’d developed breasts the size of wild plums.

“I don’t... ” He tried to speak, but his voice croaked like a bullfrog at mating time. He tried again and managed in a soft, throaty voice, “I don’t have anything for you, though.”

“That’s all right. Mine isn’t much. Just something I made.”

“You
made
it?” He touched the bow, gulped, men looked up again and whispered reverently, “Gosh, thanks.”

“You can’t open it now. You have to wait till Christmas Eve.”

Her mouth seemed to be smiling even though it wasn’t really. A gush of rapture sluiced down his body. Oh, jiminy, were her lips ever pretty. The tip of her tongue came out to wet them and his heart slammed into doubletime. She stood before him straight and expectant, her chin tilted up slightly, her hands crossed behind her back. There was a look in her eyes he’d
never seen in any girl’s eyes before. It sent his heart knocking. His eyes dropped to her lips. He gulped, drew a deep breath for courage, and bent toward her an inch. Her eyelids fluttered and she held her breath. Kristian felt as if he were choking. They tipped closer... closer...

“Patricia, Ma wants you!”

The pair in the cloakroom leaped apart guiltily. Her brother stood in the open doorway, grinning. “Hey, what’re you guys doin’ out here?”

“None of your business, Paul Lommen, just go back and tell Ma I’ll be there in a minute.”

With a knowing leer, he disappeared inside.

Patricia stamped one foot. “Oh, that dumb Paul! Why can’t he mind his own business!”

“Maybe you’d better go in. It’s awful chilly out here and you might catch a cold.” He wondered how it would feel to reach out and rub her arms lightly, but the mood was shattered and he’d lost his courage. She hugged herself and he observed the lift of her breasts above her crossed arms. He looked into her eyes, thinking about braving it again. But before he could she answered.

“I guess so. Well, I’ll see you at church, okay?”

“Yeah, sure.” She turned away with ill-disguised reluctance.

“Patricia?” he called just before she opened the door.

“What?” She faced him eagerly.

He gulped and said the manly thing that had been on his mind ever since Christmas play rehearsals had started. “You made the prettiest madonna we ever had.”

Her face broke into a radiant smile, then she opened the door and slipped inside.

When the schoolhouse lanterns had been doused and the door closed behind them, they all rode home together. Theodore and John sat up front on the cold, wooden seat; Nissa, Linnea, and Kristian in the back with a motley assortment of sheets, dishtowels, Nissa’s soup kettle, tins of leftover
sanbakkels
and
krumkaka,
coffee cups, a bag of Christmas gifts Linnea had received from her students, and one Santa suit buried under the hay. Theodore had brought the buckboard tonight, its summer wheels replaced by wooden skids that squeaked upon the snow. The sleigh bells he’d worn on his legs were now strung
around Cub’s and Toots’s necks and jangled rhythmically through the clear, star-studded night. The air was stingingly cold, cold enough to freeze the nostrils shut, but the group in the sled was in a spirited mood. Linnea had to endure a description of her blushing face while she was sitting on Santa’s knee, and plenty of teasing about the entire charade. Theodore took his share of good-natured jest, too, and they all laughed about the fact that his beard smelted like mothballs. They rehashed Roseanne’s remark about “thoop.” They were still laughing when they dropped John at his house.

“We’ll be by in the morning to pick you up on our way to town,” Theodore reminded John as his brother stepped down from the wagon.

“Sure enough,” John agreed as they said their good nights.

Linnea’s heart fell. She’d hoped to be alone with Theodore on their ride into town, but it appeared he wasn’t risking it. He could set her on his knee, squeeze her waist, and even let her kiss his cheek in front of the entire school population, but he took great care to keep her at arm’s length when nobody was around. She realized the importance of traveling by twos out here in the winter and knew she shouldn’t resent John’s coming along to keep Theodore company on his way back, but when would she get a minute alone with Theodore before she left? It was really the only thing she wanted for Christmas.

At home, Theodore pulled up close to the back door and they all helped unload the wagon. She rehearsed the things she wanted to say to him if only she’d get the chance. But it was late, and when morning came there’d be chores, then breakfast with the entire family, then John beside them every minute.

Theodore came into the kitchen with a last armload and turned back toward the door to see to the horses. If she didn’t act now, her chance would be lost.

“You two go on to bed,” she advised Nissa and Kristian. “I want to talk to Theodore for a minute.” And she followed him back outside.

He was already climbing onto the sleigh when she called, “Theodore, wait!”

He dropped his foot, turned, and asked, “What’re you doing out here?” The way he was feeling, the last thing he needed was to be alone with her — tonight of all nights, when a two-week separation loomed like two years.

“I just wanted to talk to you for a minute.”

He glanced surreptitiously toward the kitchen windows. “It’s a little cold out here for talkin’, isn’t it?”

“This is nothing compared to pumping water at school in the morning.” In Nissa’s bedroom a lantern came on. “Let me come down to the barn with you.”

Forever seemed to pass before he made his decision. “All right. Get in.” He handed her up, followed, and sent the team plodding slowly along. In the milky moonlight the windmill stood tall and dark, casting a long, trellised shadow across the face of the snow. The outbuildings were black shadows with glistening white caps. The skids squealed softly, the sleigh bells jingled, the horses’ heads nodded to the rhythm.

“You made a wonderful Santa Claus.”

“Thank you.”

“I wanted to choke you.”

He laughed. “I know.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“And spoil the surprise?”

“Do you do it every year?”

“We pass it around. But it’s got to be somebody without little ones, else they’d recognize their pa.”

“And you did very well reading all those names off the sacks. How did you learn them all so fast?”

“Kristian helped me.”

“When?”
she asked, surprised.

“We did it in the tack room.”

“Oh.” She felt a little cheated, but insisted, “Promise me you’ll keep on practicing hard while I’m gone?”

His only reply was a quick smile. He guided the sleigh beneath a lean-to roof behind a granary. It was suddenly very dark with the moonlight cut off, but the horses pulled through the blackness and stood again with the white rays falling on their backs. Theodore hopped over his side, and Linnea followed suit. He moved around the horses, disconnecting them from the whiffletree, and she helped him spread a crackling canvas tarp over the sleigh.

“I’m surprised Roseanne didn’t say you sounded just like her Uncle Teddy.”

He chuckled. “So am I. She’s a smart little cookie, that one.”

“I know. And one of my favorite pupils.”