Cynthia Reese - Secret Santa

“Is this an attempt to be alone again? Am I horning in?” he asked.

She shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t think I can be alone in this town. But it’s a free country.”

It wasn’t the enthusiastic welcome he might have hoped for, but at least she didn’t tell him to beat it. He pressed his luck and remained beside her.

“Want to talk about it?”

He’d tried to keep his voice neutral, like he’d remembered his aunt and his father had done with him in the days following his mother’s death. It had been hard for him to open up. He’d blamed himself because she’d been killed in a car wreck while on a run for Christmas goodie bags for his first-grade class.

It had taken weeks for his aunt to dig that little tidbit out of him, but when she’d folded him in her arms and assured him that it wasn’t his fault, his healing had really begun.

Now he saw Charli’s lower lip quiver. Tears welled up in her eyes. She lifted her chin and managed to school her face into submission. He didn’t dare reach for her hand, though that seemed to be the thing that would have helped him the most. He just waited.

His wait paid off. In a halting voice, she said, “I don’t think I really knew my dad at all.”

“Because of what...what I showed you last night?”

She started to shake her head, but stopped. “I guess.”

Neil didn’t believe her—not totally. Charli had been angry with him last night, but only after she thought he’d been bossing her around. Maybe he had—or at least he could see how she could take it that way. Before that, she had been awestruck, not sad, about her father.

No, Neil was certain her confession had to do with something else.

He wasn’t quite sure what to say. “I guess it is kind of confusing to have one idea of who your father is while other people knew a different side. If it makes a difference, he was really proud of you,” Neil said. “He was excited that you were joining his practice.”

Her face lit up. “Was he? Really? I mean, I know he told me, but I figured it was—” Charli broke off.

“Yeah. Really. He’d already had me promise to do a big feature on you. That sort of got derailed with your upside-down schedule when you first got here. I wish you could have heard the way he talked about you. I was kind of intimidated—figured you’d be a spoiled-brat arrogant doctor with her nose up in the air after all that advance billing.”

“Hopefully—aside from last night—I haven’t lived up to that, huh?” she said, not looking at him.

“No. I like you. I like the way you stood up for me that night in the E.R. Your dad could be, well, hard to sway once he got his mind fixed about something.”

Charli’s laugh was rueful. “I had a lot of practice standing up to him. He didn’t want me to be a doctor. Did you know that?”

“He told me that. He said he’d tried to talk you out of the medical field altogether—said you got so mad with him you refused to let him pay for medical school.”

“Ah, yes. And I have a huge mountain of student loans to show for my stubbornness. He offered to help me out, but he really wasn’t in a position—” Her openness came to an abrupt stop, with her mouth clamping shut to bite off her words.

Neil took the hint and didn’t press her. “I just paid off my last student loan. I can’t imagine what yours must be like.”

“A nightmare. But it’s doable. After all, I had something handed to me that few family practice newbies get—Dad left me his practice.” Her shoulders slumped at her last words, and Neil speculated the reality of such a bittersweet gift was hard to accept.

“But you’d rather have your dad.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I would.”

“Well, his patients will love you, just like they loved him—and he loved them.”

Charli nodded, doubt furrowing her brow. “Maybe. It’s all changed. I’ve been gone too long. I can’t remember everybody.”

“Well, it just so happens I have the cure for that,” he told her. “Your mom called me earlier today to thank me for my article about your dad, and we were talking about everything your dad was involved in. She reminded me about how he always participated in the community Christmas cantata, and she suggested I invite you to fill his place. I know, I know, she said you’re an alto and certainly not the tenor he was, but you know what I mean. They’d be thrilled to have you. We start rehearsals tonight.”

Charli put a hand to her face. “Oh,” she said, the word a groan. “My mother.”

“What? Did I make a hash of things? Did I get it wrong?” Neil asked. “She said you’d participated when you were in high school and really enjoyed it.”

Charli groaned again. “Neil, let’s face it. I’m just so not ready for anything to do with Christmas. I know you’re the holiday’s biggest cheerleader, but...I just...I just can’t.” Her voice broke. “My mother is trying to get you to babysit me, and I don’t need babysitting. Honestly. I need to be working.” She sprang up from the seat. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’ve got a lot on my plate now. Okay?”

With that, Charli took off down the sidewalk, her businesslike stride full of purpose and showing none of the vulnerability he’d witnessed just a few moments before.

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