Dear Santa(36)

“Yes, yes. You mentioned that you’d written me a letter.”

“But you hadn’t read it yet.”

“Ah, but I have now, and seeing that you’ve been a good girl all year, I’m happy to grant your every wish.”

“Thanks, Santa.” This was fun. This guy definitely played his part well.

“I recall an earlier letter from your childhood when you asked for Rollerblades.” He rubbed his hand down the side of his beard, as if checking his memory.

Rollerblades were likely the most popular request Santa had received during her childhood years. “You should know I broke my arm while learning to operate those skates,” she said, enjoying teasing him.

“That’s not the only thing that’s been broken, now, is it?”

“The only bone,” she said, not getting what he referenced.

“Ah, but one’s tattered heart can hurt as badly as a broken bone.”

Lindy blinked and studied him more closely. “You seem to know a lot about me, Santa.”

In response he grinned. “Say, young lady, how are you at handing out candy canes to little boys and girls?”

    “Why do you ask?”

“Well, for one thing, I’m in need of an assistant, and for another, I believe you’ve got something weighing on your mind. Perhaps what you need is a listening ear.”

Santa was right. Perhaps she did.





CHAPTER FOURTEEN





The long line of adults with small children awaited Santa’s arrival at the Children’s Closet clothing store, where he was set to make his appearance. He handed Lindy a Santa hat and a bucket of candy canes. Her job was to manage the line, making sure each child had time with him.

When Santa had first asked for her help, Lindy had hesitated. Yet, there was something about the way he’d studied her, as if he knew the decision that weighed on her mind. He just might have a word of wisdom to share, and she certainly was willing to listen.

Once Santa was in place and the children took their turns, one by one, Lindy found herself caught up in the magic of the moment. It surprised her how much she enjoyed the exchanges Santa had with the children and their parents. He played his part perfectly. She’d never seen anyone do it better. He asked the children questions and seemed to recognize several as he asked things only an insider would know. She remembered her own time with him while in Leavenworth and how he seemed to know her. He was good, she’d say that. Really good with children and adults alike.

    Most of the kids were eager to visit Santa, while others clung to their mothers, terrified of the man in the red suit with the long white beard.

“Do you have a special Christmas wish for Santa?” she asked the next child in line, who waited patiently. The little girl, who looked to be about five, nodded enthusiastically. “It’s a secret; I can only tell Santa.”

“He’s a good listener,” Lindy assured her.

“I wrote him a letter, too.”

“So did I,” Lindy told her.

“Did he read it?” she asked, her eyes round and curious.

“He did,” Lindy said with a smile.

When it was her turn, she raced up to Santa and leaped onto his lap. Lindy couldn’t hear what the child said, but Santa got a big belly laugh out of it and gave her a gentle hug before he sent her on her way.

One little boy stuck out in Lindy’s mind. He seemed sad and preoccupied.

    “My sister is sick,” the little boy said. “If you can help her get well, then I don’t need anything for Christmas.”

Santa nodded, as if he was well aware of the sick little girl. “I’m sorry little Anna needs surgery, but you know what?” he said, “I believe she is going to get the very best care possible and that she’ll be home soon. Don’t you worry.”

“Thank you, Santa.”

“And, Buddy, I think you need to check under the Christmas tree later. Santa hasn’t forgotten you.”

Hearing the conversation, at first Lindy was alarmed that he might be giving the child false hope, but then she saw how the little boy brightened with the news. At least he would have hope for Christmas. Silently, Lindy sent up a prayer, asking God to heed Santa’s words.

There wasn’t any need for a photographer, as all the parents had phones, snapping dozens of pictures in the few minutes their children spent on Santa’s lap. The lack of a photographer made Lindy wonder how Santa was being paid for his time and energy, and then realized the store probably compensated him.

Santa’s patience with the children amazed her. Even the crying, squirming ones. He comforted each fussy child in a way that soon had them staring up at him with faces filled with wide-eyed wonder.

Santa was booked for three hours, and the time flew. It felt like Lindy had been assisting him for minutes when the shop owner announced the time was up. The store was closing early for Christmas Eve.

    “We can’t thank you enough, Santa,” the woman said. “You don’t know what this means to us and our small shop.”

“I enjoyed every minute,” Santa returned.

“Are you sure you won’t take anything…We did a number of big sales while you were here.”

He held up his hand, stopping her. “It’s my pleasure.”