Tracy
Chris whispered some instructions to his wife, then said, “Follow me,” to Tracy. He led her into a hallway where he poked around in a closet. Well, closet wasn't the right word. It was more like “Place where he stored every object ever created.”
The sight of Chris rummaging around in that closet with his rear end sticking out of the mess was enough to make Tracy laugh.
Chris tossed his belongings into the hallway as he searched. There were coats, of course, and a vacuum cleaner, some boxes of Kleenex, a few board games, a Jello mold, a hamster cage, a painting of a seal on the beach, a ball of string, a vase, a kite. The list went on and on. Tracy even thought she saw a dog peek out of there at one point.
Finally, Chris emerged with a small canvas bag held high in the air. He handed it to Tracy. When she opened it, she found a pair of socks covered in red and green reindeer and a pair of fur lined boots. They were just Tracy's size. But even crazier, the socks looked just like a pair both she and Pim had gotten for Christmas one year. From Santa. Her chest tightened as she traced the outline of a reindeer with her finger. Her eyes blurred over.
“You'll want to change out of those wet sneakers,” he said.
“Oh, right.” She snapped out of her daze and squished her toes up inside her shoes. She hadn't realized until then that her toes felt numb. Her own shoes and socks were still soaked from walking through the snow.
“Thank you,” she said, although what she really wanted to ask was, “How did you know?”
Once she had changed, and they were on their way back to the barn, Chris said to her, “You still have questions.”
Tracy shrugged, a gesture that made her feel very small inside that big coat. Chris knew so much. She could chalk it up to the hot chocolate like Jared had, but she didn't want to. She had sneaked out on Christmas Eve to find the truth. What if the truth really couldn't be explained with a science project? She stuffed her hands in her pockets, because she couldn't find the right thing to say. Too much was whirling about in her mind.
“Okay,” Chris said softly, “how about we start with this? You didn't leave with Jared.”
“No.” Tracy had seen no sense in that. All he was doing was throwing a hissy fit. It must have been terrible to lose his parents, but running away wasn’t going to fix anything. “But that doesn't mean I don't agree with some of the things he said.”
“Such as?”
She took a deep breath. The cold air filled her lungs and gave her courage. Although, she wasn't sure why she needed the courage to speak her beliefs. Maybe it was because her beliefs didn't seem that solid anymore. “Magic can't be real.”
“And why not?”
She looked up at him thoughtfully. Their gazes locked as the two of them trudged along in the snow. The moonlight reflected in his eyes, and for a moment, he seemed not quite human. People were hard edges and solid facts. He was more like a teddy bear come to life. She wanted to believe him. No, that wasn't exactly right. She wanted to believe in him. “Earlier tonight, you said you were Santa.”
“I did.”
“What does that mean, exactly?”
Chris took in a long, slow breath, then blew it out. His breath turned into little snowflakes dancing inside a cloud, then fell softly onto his belly and melted. “How about I tell you a story?”
“I think that will be okay.” All stories had some truth in them, and sometimes they were easier to tell than the facts.
“Once upon a time, a man and his wife lived in a very small, very poor village, far across the ocean. They had no children, but that was okay, because their village was full of children who spent their days laughing and playing in the streets. The couple enjoyed the sound of laughter so much, that whenever a child was in need, they did what they could to help. Sometimes, it was milk for a crying baby. Sometimes, it was new clothing for a child who only had tattered rags.”
“That was nice of them,” Tracy said.
“They did what they could, and because the children were happy, they were happy. Soon, the couple became known throughout the village, but the villagers were often too embarrassed to ask for help. The old man and his wife were smart, though.” Chris tapped his finger to his temple. “They got word out to the children and told them to slide a letter under the couple's front door if they needed anything. If the children left their shoes outside their house at night, the old man would sneak little gifts or coins into them. Does that remind you of anything?”
Tracy knew where this was going. “Is that where Santa Command got the idea for everything? Children's letters and stockings by the fireplace.”
He touched his finger to her nose. “You're very smart, but I'm sure you also know many things changed over the years.”
“Like adding the reindeer and only giving gifts on Christmas?”
“And the red suit.” He tugged at the collar of her coat, and she giggled. At the sound of her laughter, his smile spread wide across his face. “So anyway, these traditions continued for decades, until the man and the woman were very old. They were so old in fact, that the man could no longer leave his bed, not even to stand by the street and listen to the children's laughter. This made him very sad.”
“Did he die?” Tracy asked, even though she was afraid of the answer. She didn't want the old man to have died alone in his bed.
They reached the barn doors, and Chris turned to her. He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes as if he were studying her. “This is the part where the story becomes fantastical. And I must ask that you believe every word.”
Tracy eyed him carefully, ready to say that she couldn't promise anything. As her mouth formed the answer, his body seemed to fuzz around the edges, and for a split second, she saw him as a younger man. He wore a cloak that looked like it came from a picture in her history book. Then, he turned back into Chris, the guy who looked like a well-dressed grandfather. She could have chalked it up to the late hour and the fact that she was so tired, but she didn't. “What is it?” she asked in a whisper.
He held up a finger, telling her to wait just a moment as he opened the barn doors and led her to a dark corner near the front. There, he knelt beside a small wooden chest and placed his hand on top, as if he wasn't ready to open it just yet.
Tracy sat down beside him. He hadn't said a word since entering the barn, and so she hadn't either. Her heart fluttered, and she was surprised at how much she needed to hear his story. She stared at him, wide-eyed.
Chris continued. “One night, just as the old man thought he would draw his last breath, a creature appeared before him. Some might call her an angel. Some would say fairy. All he knew was that she was about to change his life.” He paused, drawing out the moment until Tracy sucked in her breath. “She granted his desire to do good in the world, by granting him two gifts—magic and immortality.”
Tracy sat up straight. No one was immortal. It wasn't possible.
Chris must have noticed the doubt in her eyes, because he said, “Please, wait until you've heard and seen everything.” And with that, he opened the box.