“Well, sometimes even Santa has to give Mom and Dad the final say. So hopefully next year we can try again for that BB gun,” I tell maybe-Felix. I brace myself for a fit, maybe even a few tears, but he nods and climbs out of my lap. Lena helps him down the sleigh steps, then lifts a little girl up to the same spot.
“Santa, this is Julia.” A secret grin tugs at Lena’s lips.
Julia’s long blond hair shields her face as she makes her way slowly up the steps.
“Hi, Julia.” I lean down until I’m low enough to draw her gaze to mine. Reaching out a black-gloved hand, I introduce myself. “I’m Santa. How are you?”
Her orange-mittened hand lands in mine tentatively as she looks up at me through her lashes. “You’re not the real Santa.”
The abrupt delivery has me fumbling for a moment, trying to gauge what my response is supposed to be.
Her assertive gaze studies me like I’m simply another adult trying to lie to her face. She looks like she’s as sharp as a tack. Like she can see right through this fake beard and wiry white hair around my face.
She reminds me of myself as a kid.
Scanning out over the field around us, my eyes land on the only other adult left besides Lena. Shannon’s at the front of the sleigh, offering me a small, happy wave.
Gary and Joe introduced us a few years ago, and we’ve kept in close contact since. I haven’t seen her in a few months, but the way her focus is pinned on Julia tells me two things.
One, Julia is under Shannon’s care and in the foster system.
Two, Juliaislike me. A little lost, a little too grown-up for her age, and a little skeptical of adults.
She slips her hand from mine, then sticks them in the pockets of her coat.
“Did the beard give me away?” I whisper, adjusting it on my chin.
She tilts her head, assessing me. “Yeah, it looks like a goat’s beard.”
I lean toward her and whisper behind my hand. “It smells like one, too.”
Her cheeks lift in a grin before she turns, looking in every direction until she spots a group of kids running between the trees on the edge of the clearing. “You can’t take it off yet, or those kids will see.” She climbs onto the sleigh’s bench beside me.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Lena walking toward Shannon, maybe to give us some privacy.
“How old are you?” I ask, watching the way Julia’s hands twist together in her lap.
“Six. How old are you?”
“Thirty-nine.”
Her brows shoot up. “That’s old.”
“Yeah. Any minute, this white beard is going to be real.”
Her small laugh sends a wave of comfort through my chest.
“Is there anything you want for Christmas?” I ask.
She shrugs. “I wanted to see my mom, but Shannon said I might not get to. But she said we could have pizza for lunch like I used to do with Mommy.”
My throat tightens as a wave of protectiveness bleeds through me. I know that ache she’s feeling in her heart because I’ve been dealing with it for my whole life. I wish I could soak all her pain into myself to save her from a lifetime of it.
“That sounds like a perfect lunch. Do you have a plan for breakfast? Because I make some really awesome cinnamon rolls.”
Her blue eyes brighten. “I like cinnamon rolls.”
“Then I’ll make you some and bring them to Shannon on Christmas Eve.”
