Beth Carpenter - A Gift For Santa

Clever way to shift the blame. Chris smiled. “Technically, he’s not my dog. He belongs to my roommate, Sam. But I think we take pretty good care of him.”

“He’s not yours?” Ryan looked him in the eye for the first time.

“No. He’s Sam’s dog.”

“Is it your house?”

“Nope. Sam’s house, too. I just live there.” Chris rubbed Kimmik’s ears and took the stick, handing it to Ryan.

The boy threw the stick and turned to him. “So are you, like, a foster kid, too?”

Chris chuckled. “Not exactly. I pay rent and help with the chores, like taking care of the dog.”

“I do chores, too.”

“Good. That shows you’re responsible.”

“Ryan?” a man’s voice called from up the street.

The kid made a face. “Homework.” He made no move to answer, instead throwing the stick again.

Brent, a neighbor from up the street, walked toward them. “Ryan, it’s time to come inside.” He looked at Chris. “Sorry. Hope he wasn’t bothering you.”

“No, he just wanted to play with the dog.” Ryan shot Chris a look of alarm, but Chris patted him on the shoulder. “I told him he was welcome to play with Kimmik anytime, as long as he comes to ask first.”

“He loves dogs. He might drive you crazy.”

“Nah, he’s fine. I’ll let Sam and Dana know he might be stopping by.”

“Thanks.” Brent grasped Ryan by the shoulders and turned him around. “But right now, you need to go inside. Sandy wants to go over your spelling words with you while the baby’s napping.”

“But Kimmik wants to play.”

“Ryan, now.”

Ryan dropped his chin onto his chest with a mighty sigh, and trudged away.

Brent stayed with Chris. “Thanks for being nice to him.”

“No problem. I like him.”

“Do you?” Brent watched the boy. “He’s a handful. Sandy and I are fostering a baby girl we’re hoping to adopt. Ryan is new to foster care. His grandmother was looking after him, but she had to go to a nursing home. Sandy heard about him and couldn’t stand the idea of him not being with a family for Christmas, so she volunteered to keep him until January. Hopefully, they can find a long-term placement for him by then.”

Chris got the impression it wouldn’t have been Brent’s idea to take Ryan, but what did he know? Either way, they were taking care of him over Christmas, so kudos to Brent and Sandy. “Congratulations on the baby. And I meant what I said. Ryan is welcome to come play with Kimmik. He’s not dangerous.”

“I know. Labradors are great with kids.”

“Yeah. So give Sandy my best wishes, too. What’s the baby’s name?”

“April. She’s six months old.” Brent pulled out his phone and started pushing buttons. Chris had been around enough new fathers to know where this was going.

“Pretty name.”

“Thanks.” Brent held out his phone. “Here she is with Sandy on the day we brought her home.”

Chris dutifully studied the picture. The infant laughed toward the camera, her eyes opened wide and framed with dark curly lashes. “She’s gorgeous,” Chris assured him, truthfully in this case. Some of the babies he’d been forced to compliment looked, well...scary. “I’d better get Kimmik in. See you around.”

Chris put the dog in the yard and carefully latched the gate. Maybe he should have told Brent about Ryan letting Kimmik out, but it sounded like the kid had enough trouble in his life. Chris had a feeling he might be seeing a lot of Ryan over the next few weeks. Or at least, Kimmik would.

* * *

“SO, LAYLA, HAVE you been a good girl this year?” Chris smiled at the pigtailed imp in his lap. Wide brown eyes looked back at him solemnly.

“Nuh-uh.”

Well, he had to give her credit for honesty, even if it meant he wasn’t sure what to do next. “No?”

She shook her head. “I’m supposed to sit still and pay attention at school, but it’s too hard.”

“Huh. What grade are you in?”

“First grade.”

He nodded. “What’s your favorite subject?”

“P.E.”

“Oh yeah? Mine, too, when I was in school. I liked basketball.”

“You went to school?”

“Of course. School is important. If I hadn’t learned to read, I wouldn’t be able to read letters or make lists. I used to have a hard time sitting still, too.”

“You did?”

“Uh-huh. But I had a trick. I’d listen to what the teacher said, and then repeat it inside my head, and wriggle my toes.”

“Your toes?” She giggled, watching his eyes as if she thought he was joking.

“Sure. You’re not supposed to wiggle your body, but if you wriggle your toes, nobody sees. And it helped me remember. Say we were doing spelling words, like c-a-t, cat. I’d wriggle my toes, right-left-right, c-a-t, and I’d remember.”

“C-a-t,” she repeated, flapping her feet.

“Good, but when you do it in school, just do your toes, not your whole feet. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good girl. Now, I’ve got a present for you here, somewhere.” He rummaged through the stack of packages he’d been provided.

“But you only get presents if you’re good.”

“You are good. Sometimes it’s hard to behave, but you try, and that’s what matters. Here it is, a package for Layla.” He handed her a polka-dotted box. “Merry Christmas.”

“I love you, Santa.” Layla hugged the box against her chest and flashed him a bright smile before skipping away.

Chris chuckled. The things kids said. Like Ryan the other day, asking if Chris was a foster kid. It must be hard, knowing you were a temporary part of a family, that the place you were living was your home only for a while. You could never have a pet of your own if you were moving around all the time. Chris could sympathize there; he’d begged for a dog for years when he was a kid but his parents said no. The closest he ever got was a fish.

Was it wrong for Chris to encourage Ryan to form a bond with Kimmik, knowing he’d be moving elsewhere after Christmas? The kid obviously loved dogs. Anyway, if he hadn’t promised, Ryan would probably just continue sneaking Kimmik from the yard. He seemed like a strong-willed kid.

Marissa stepped forward, leading another little girl with a thick black braid. “Santa, this is Lotu.”

“Hi, Lotu.” And so it went. One child after another. Some were shy, barely able to verbalize one gift, while others had an entire spiel memorized, including a record of their good behavior. After a while, the requests tended to run together, but each child was unique, and Chris tried to give every one his full attention.

He used to wonder why Oliver would have left a well-paid desk job in order to start a reindeer farm. It must have been a risk. But now that Chris had experienced the magic for himself he was starting to understand. Watching the kids’ eyes light up when they touched real live reindeer, or the excitement on their faces when they talked to him. Christmas magic.

There wasn’t a lot of magic in the house where he’d grown up. Sure, they got presents from his parents. His mom was a compulsive shopper, after all. And she usually had some Christmas doodads scattered around the house. But nobody baked goodies or decorated a tree. Nobody set out milk and cookies for Santa, because Santa didn’t come to their house. Chris remembered feeling superior to the kids who still believed in Santa. Who would have thought he’d ever be charged with the awesome responsibility of being the jolly old man himself?

Once all the children had had a chance to talk with him, he and Marissa went outside to watch the reindeer rides. This was a mixed group from an after-school program. Some of the parents had decided to put together the Christmas party as a special treat. The kids were thrilled to get to hang out with Santa and real reindeer.