Dear Santa(42)

A Christmas movie played on the television. Peter was sprawled across his mother’s and father’s laps, half asleep. Her mother had her fingers working on her latest knitting project, and her dad was involved in the hardcover novel by his favorite author. Lindy knew he wouldn’t be able to resist checking out the book.

“You know what we need to do,” Chad said, extracting himself from Peter and his wife. “Scrabble.”

“Scrabble?” Billy repeated.

“It’s tradition,” Lindy explained. “Every Christmas we all play Scrabble.”

“And work on a jigsaw puzzle,” her dad added.

The puzzle was set up on a card table close to the fireplace. This year, the picture was of Santa coming down the chimney into a living room fully decorated for the holidays. Before dinner, her dad had gotten it going and had started working on the border. Chad had added the entire Christmas tree section near the left-hand side of the border.

    Billy had added a few pieces himself. Rarely was the puzzle completely assembled by the end of Christmas Day. It took the week between the two holidays to set the thousand pieces in place and complete the picture. Tradition. The puzzle and a rousing game of Scrabble.

Chad set up the Scrabble board on the dining room table and spread out all the small wooden letters.

“You going to join us, Billy?” Chad asked.

Billy looked to Lindy. “What are the stakes?”

“We play for the privilege of hoping we can beat Dad,” Lindy explained. “This is his game, and he’s practically unstoppable.”

“Watch out for Lindy, too. She can be a creative speller.”

“Very funny, little brother,” she teased back.

Soon the lethargy had left and the six sat around the table while Peter watched cartoons. He bounced between his toys and the television as the game started.

Lindy pulled the Q without a U, and her first word on the board gained her a whopping six points. Not a great start. Her dad’s first word gained him thirteen points. And so it went for the next hour as the board continued to grow with words built up around other words. Once or twice Lindy tried to pull a fast one, insisting her word was in the Webster’s dictionary and was quickly proven wrong. It came as no surprise that her father claimed the crown as the top Scrabble player.

    “Has he ever lost?” Billy asked Lindy.

“Once. To Mom, and I think he let her win.”

“He most certainly did not!” her mother insisted, with a quiver to her lips that said everything.

“Chad was born nine months later,” Lindy whispered to Billy.

“Your timing is off by a few years, Lindy.” It seemed her mother had overheard.

“Anyone ready for dessert?”

Billy placed his hands on his flat stomach. “Not long ago I swore I couldn’t swallow another bite.”

“And now?”

“I got a look at that caramel-pecan pie sitting on the kitchen counter and I’ve decided to make the effort.”

“Big of you,” Lindy teased.

“I’ll take pumpkin,” Chad said. “Never did appreciate the fancy pies. Give me apple or pumpkin and I’m a happy man.”

The table was cleared, and the desserts were brought out. Lindy went for the caramel-pecan pie. It tasted as good as the recipe promised.

Soon afterward, Chad and his family headed home. Peter was worn out from all the activity and the excitement of the day. Lindy could tell Ashley was tired, too, as her hand continued to rub the slight swell of her pregnancy belly.

    After her brother left, Lindy and Billy cuddled together in front of the television. At ten, her parents excused themselves and went to bed.

“Do you think they left for our benefit?” Billy asked, as he kissed the side of her neck.

“Could be.” That was likely not the case. Her mother had put in a long day and hadn’t napped when most everyone else had taken a short snooze.

“I’ll thank them later,” Billy murmured, close to her ear.

“Pray tell, what do you have in mind, Billy Kincade?”

“If you could read my thoughts, I’d definitely be getting a bag of coal from Santa next Christmas.”

Lindy couldn’t hold back a smile had she tried. “Is that so?”

“You have no idea.”

“Actually, I think I just might.”

Turning her into his arms, Billy kissed her again and again. A commercial played on the television, louder than expected, which broke them apart.

“I have to say, this is the best Christmas I can remember in a long while.”

“Mine, too,” she said.

    “It’s because of you, Lindy. I’m doing my best to ignore the fact that you’re returning to Seattle in a week.”

“Me, too,” she admitted.

He reached for her wrist where he’d placed the charm bracelet with the single Santa charm. “My hope is that I’ll be the one adding charms every Christmas until it weighs down your arm to the point you can no longer lift it.”

Lindy didn’t know what to say. Basically, Billy was telling her he wanted to be part of her life from this point forward.

“We’ve been together a week, Billy,” she reminded him. “You can’t say something like that after such a short time.”