Tate brushed his cold hand over his face. It was instantly wet, as a fresh coating of tears stained his cheeks. He didn’t understand why his mother was making him leave town in the middle of the night on Christmas Eve. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t stop crying.
He jammed his hands into his coat pocket and leaned up against the old station wagon, watching his mother pump gas into it from the other side. Where were they going? His mother was in a conversation with a man behind her who was also pumping gas for his truck. He locked eyes with a young girl who was sitting inside. She was staring at him.
He looked away. The last three months had been one long nightmare. However, it didn’t start out that way. Last spring had been one of the best of his young life—making the junior varsity baseball team at his new school and getting straight B’s, an academic first, making his parents proud. Then he’d spent last summer at camp where he learned to water ski and fish on the Finger Lakes. His mom promised she’d send him to camp again next year. He was going to hold her to that promise.
Fall had not been kind to his family. In late September, his dad suddenly dropped to the ground at work and was rushed to the emergency room where he passed away of a heart attack shortly after being admitted. He was only thirty-nine. Now Tate and his mom were all alone, still new in the area, and without family for support.
“Tate. Tate, dear . . .” his mom called out, snapping him out of his trance. “Here.” She walked over and handed him a ten-dollar bill. “Why don’t you go get us a couple of sodas and some snacks for the trip?”
He took the money. “Whatever.” He was angry with his mother for making him leave the only place he’d ever considered home. She never let him drink soda. It was an attempt to make things right, but he wasn’t ready to call a truce. He’d liked living here. He’d made good grades and had friends. Didn’t that account for anything?
As he walked into the adjoining convenience store, he could hear the faint sound of Christmas music. He headed to the back refrigerator and selected two cans of Coke. From out of nowhere, the girl from the truck appeared. She had straight blond hair tied back in a ponytail and big green eyes.
“Hey, you dropped this outside.” The girl handed Tate the ten dollars his mother had given him.
“Thank you,” he said. He took the bill and shook a little snow off it.
“Are you excited about Santa?”
“Huh?”
“You know. Santa Claus. He’s coming tonight. It’s Christmas Eve.”
“I’m too old for Santa,” he said in disgust, looking the girl up and down. She was wearing acid washed jeans similar to his own and red and white striped legwarmers. She could be around his age. Maybe two or three years younger. “Aren’t you too old, too?”
“Maybe, but that doesn’t mean I can’t still believe.”
“That’s for kids.” Tate reached out in front of the girl and grabbed a bag of potato chips. He headed toward the cash register, handed the money to the man behind the counter, and waited for his change.
“Why were you crying?” The girl had come up behind him.
“I wasn’t crying.” He was starting to get agitated. Why wouldn’t this girl go away? “Boys don’t cry.”
“You were.”
“Were not.”
“Was not,” she corrected.
He pushed his way out the door. The last thing he wanted was to get into an argument with this smart aleck girl.
“Tate, you about ready?” his mom called out and got into the driver’s side of their station wagon.
The girl followed him outside. “Wait. I have something for you. Let me just ask my dad if it’s okay.” She ran over to the truck.
“I don’t want it,” he yelled back. Geez, she really was annoying. He hadn’t realized girls could be so irritating. She bounced back over to him.
“Here.”
“I said I didn’t want it.”
“Just take it. They’re cookies. Christmas cookies to leave for Santa. You’re never too old to believe.”
Tate frowned. “Thanks,” he muttered and got into the car.
The girl skipped back to the truck.
His mom grabbed the box from him. “Well that was awfully nice. Do you know that girl?” She opened it, showing him a dozen sugar cookies in different Christmas shapes inside.
“No.”
His mom picked up a tree shaped cookie and took a bite. “Yum. Want one?”
“No.” He stared straight ahead. “Can we go now?”
There was a knock on the passenger window. Tate looked over to see the girl peering in the window. He ignored her.
“Tate, where are your manners? Honestly. Roll down your window,” his mother ordered.
He reluctantly grabbed the car’s handle and began to turn it. “What?” he asked.
“My dad asked me to see if you’re allergic to milk because there is eggnog in these cookies. It’s my mom’s secret ingredient. Merry Christmas!” With that, the girl planted a soft kiss on his lips and quickly ran away. His first kiss.
Tate leaned his head out the window. “Hey, what’s your name?”
The girl turned around and flashed him a smile. “Amanda.”
“Tate, are you awake?”
“Mom?” He sat up and called out into the dark room. Without his glasses, he could barely make out the figure standing in the doorway.
“I sound like your mother? Seriously, dude? My truck didn’t hit you that hard.” Alex walked over to the nightstand and switched on the lamp.
Tate rubbed his eyes. “Alex. Let me guess. You’ve come back to take care of my other ankle?” It wouldn’t really suprise him if he had.
“Nah, you’re safe. Brenda sent me up here to wake you up.”
“Thanks, man, what time is it?”
“Seven o’clock on the nose.”
“Shoot. That late?” Tate swung his legs over the bed and picked up his phone from the nightstand. No calls from Melanie. “Damn, I’m late.”
“What? Do you have somewhere to go? Or should I ask . . . someone to meet?”
“No,” Tate shot back. He really didn’t need Alex’s insinuating attitude right now. There was still so much he needed to do tonight. “Hey, can you hand me those?” He pointed to the other side of the room.
Alex bent down and handed Tate his boots. “You can’t seriously drive with that ankle?”
True. Where was Amanda, and why hadn’t she woken him an hour ago like he had asked her to?
His ankle was still throbbing. He’d need to take another pain reliever to get through the next couple of hours, which meant he’d need a co-pilot to drive him. Unfortunately, Alex fit the bill.
“Actually, yes, I do have someone to meet. She’s five and has a sister who’s four. And you’re coming with me.” He stood. “Do you have an elf costume?”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Amanda walked over to the sink with a handful of dirty dishes. Kristen intercepted her, grabbing the plates from her hands.
“Oh, no you don’t. You’re our guest,” she insisted. “Thanks for having dinner with us. The girls love you.”
Amanda glanced at Chloe and Danielle. Both girls had moved from the dining table to the living room and now sat mesmerized in front of the television watching Frosty the Snowman. A torn VHS tape cover laid on the carpet next to them.
Kristen followed Amanda’s gaze. “Those girls are going to wear out that tape!” She winked. “With any luck.”
Amanda laughed and continued to help clear the table. “They’re just excited for Christmas. Your girls are really sweet.”