Chapter 24
~ Braden ~
Deputy Tim Doury is obviously assigned to look after me. After Sheriff Lane leaves the station, Tim brews me a mug of bitter coffee and heats up an omelet from the refrigerator.
“Don’t you guys get the day off for Christmas?” I almost spew out the bitter dregs. The only reason I’m drinking it is because I’m bone-tired.
“We would have if it hadn’t been for your grandfather’s emergency.”
“Well, I’m sorry he overdosed, and believe me, if I find who did it, I’ll wring his neck.” I stab at the plasticky omelet with bits of dried bacon and brown tomatoes.
“How do you know it’s a man?” Tim slurps the nasty coffee, stirring more cream and sugar into it. “How about that tart, Samantha Reed?”
“She has nothing to do with it.” I throw the fork down and push the card table chair back. It topples on the floor. “Since I’m not being arrested, I’d like to see my grandfather.”
“Can’t let you do that.”
“Why not? I heard the sheriff. He says you have to stick by my side, that’s all, and since your Christmas is fucked, you might as well drive me to the hospital. You’re free to sit by my side like a dutiful babysitter.”
Tim groans and scratches his unshaven jaw. I frankly don’t see what my stepsister sees in him. I don’t even know which one he’s interested in, since they double-date all the time. Whatever happened to the ranch hands?
“Come on,” I urge. “Since you’re stuck, you might as well do a good deed. What you say we dress up as Santa Clauses and bring toys to the hospital?”
“The children already had their toy drive.” Tim yawns and stretches, leaning back so far, his chair almost topples.
“Not to the children, then, but the elderly who are stuck in the hospital. Think about it. What a way to spend Christmas.”
“Bet they have their families around them.”
“Not all. Some may be lonely or have no one. Others might have told their families to go home and enjoy Christmas without them. Can you imagine a sweet little granny stuck in bed with tubes through her arm? Or a sick, frail grandpa wishing he was strong enough to pick up the latest grandbaby and put the star on the top of the tree? Or the bag lady who never had a family, picked up off the streets freezing and ill? Or…”
He raises both hands. “Okay, okay, you got me. I’m in charge of the props at church. We can get costumes, but where are we getting the gifts?”
“We can make up gift cards. Do you have paper and a pen?”
“That we have, but how do they redeem them?”
“I will personally provide the services, and I also know three wonderful Elfprentices who will be glad to help.” I take the offered pen and jot down my ideas. “Dog bath. Gin rummy. Car wash once the snow melts. Driveway shoveled.”
“I can think of more,” Tim says. “Homecooked meal. Dishwashing. Handyman services.”
“How about grocery shopping or manning the grill at a cookout?”
“Good ones. Sink unclogged. Garage cleaned.”
Now we’re both getting into it, writing up gift ideas and tucking them into envelopes. When we have about thirty gift ideas, Tim takes me to the church, and we raid the costume room.
I can’t really believe I’m doing this. In the past, Grandpa was always the Santa, and I’ve been a grouch for too many years. True, no one can do Christmas better than my mom, but then, maybe we can do it differently.
I pull up the pants and tie the string to cinch the waist. “I’m not going to put in that fake belly.”
“Me either,” Tim agrees. “After all, we’re young Santa Clauses.”
“Yep, we don’t want any of the old guys to feel upstaged.” I fling the white beard back into the prop bin. “They should get a kick out of saying they’re better Santas than we are.”
With that, we finish dressing and grab pillowcases to put the gift notes inside.
The sun is shining bright by the time we enter the hospital. From the guard to the nurses to the harried doctors wandering the hallways, everyone breaks into a smile when Tim and I sing Christmas carols.
