Christmas, Actually. Anna J. Stewart

needed a little help this year.

      Each afternoon at three, Santa’s sleigh, drawn by two massive farm horses, glided to a halt on the snow-covered green. Santa alighted from his seat and fell happily into the swarm of children demanding candy canes and chocolates as they offered gift ideas for themselves, their siblings and friends.

      Jack had started parking his truck a few miles east to avoid Santa and the adoring youngsters. But he couldn’t forget the old days, when he’d worked as an EMT during breaks from school. His ambulance had often sat on the green to be on hand in case of emergency. Sipping hot chocolate from a stand near his post, he’d enjoyed the shouts of a puppy for my baby sister and a little brother and a fire engine that shoots water. Some asked for video game systems with names that were already unfamiliar, because he was too busy to play any kind of game.

      Now, his friends would be taking their own children to see Santa, and next year, Sophie would likely take their baby to visit a Santa in Boston.

      Someday his little girl might be a pint-sized video game wizard.

      In a few days he’d be playing Santa at the hospital. His grandfather had done the job until he couldn’t drive the blue truck over there anymore. Jack’s dad had taken over, but this year, Jack had to fill in. He dreaded it. Happy children who had no idea what existed in the world outside this town pretty much unmanned him, but he couldn’t let them down.

      He veered toward the green, parking close to the square. Listening to the sounds of Christmas might help him brace himself for an evening as the hospital’s jolly old elf. It was the way he’d gotten used to being around families before he’d lost that little girl in surgery. He’d helped with rounds on the children’s floor, walked through the common, even eaten dinner out.

      He glanced at his watch. Five minutes before three.

      He reached the holly-covered fence just as the gates opened for Santa’s sleigh. Jack was about to walk through one of the decorated arches when he noticed Sophie, one foot on the fence’s bottom rung, laughing as the children surged forward in a line that snaked with their exuberance.

      The Victorian carolers that strolled through Christmas Town from Thanksgiving until New Year’s Day burst into “Here Comes Santa Claus.”

      Sophie’s laughter was a temptation he couldn’t resist. She included him in her joy, as if she’d expected to see him. “Could they be more on the nose?”

      “The kids love it,” he said. Best he could manage when he was breathing her in, like a man starved of oxygen.

      “So do their parents. Look how happy they all are.”

      He always saw; it was part of his self-administered therapy. Families survived. Fate didn’t draw a target on everyone who dared to be happy.

      Sophie pointed to his scrub pants. “Are you headed for work?”

      He nodded. “What are you doing out here?”

      “I’m losing my cynicism,” she said. “This is the most holiday-loving town in the world. You people are genuinely excited to embrace Christmas.” She gave him a teasing, sidelong glance. “Well, most of you, anyway.”

      “You want to hear something funny?” It didn’t feel at all funny, with his throat closing up and his head aching every time he thought of it.

      “I’d love to.”

      “I’m the hospital Santa night after tomorrow. We give the children on pediatrics a Christmas party every year.”

      “You’re Santa?” Her surprise got under his skin, but he couldn’t blame her. “I don’t understand you,” she said, stepping away from the fence.

      Each time he saw her, he was more tempted to explain, but what if he said he’d try? What if he said that, deep down, he felt as protective of his child as she did, and that paternal compulsion had driven him to leave her and stay away? “Maybe I’ll see you before you leave town.” Cutting off whatever she’d been about to say, he headed for the truck.

      “Jack,” she said.

      He turned back.

      “I hope you imagine her face as you hand out each present.”

      He snapped his head away, to hide pain like a blow to the gut. If he could stop imagining their daughter’s face, abandoning her would be so much easier.

      * * *

      FROM THE MOMENT Jack had said he was going to be Santa, Sophie knew she’d show up for the toy distribution. She’d never felt a need to punish herself before, making her decision to go as inexplicable as Jack’s own behavior.

      But her car would be repaired soon. She’d never have to see Jack again, and maybe watching him playing Santa for children who had no claims on him would finally convince her he was right.

      She offered to gather the last few toys out of Esther’s collection box while she waited for a cab.

      “Thanks for taking these.” Esther piled them into a canvas shopping tote. She sighed as she patted the bag, smoothing it into a less lumpy shape. “I love this town. It’s full of caring people.”

      “Do you?” Sophie didn’t see the town in quite that way, but Jack’s behavior had colored her view. He was saving himself by abandoning their daughter.

      She wasn’t like Jack. She couldn’t turn her back on someone without trying to fix whatever had gone wrong.

      “We try to help each other,” Esther said. “Just look at the green. How many places in this world do you know where everyone in town donates a good amount of money and time every year to do something that’s nice for the children?”

      Sophie took the bag, smiling. “If you aren’t head of the tourist board, they’re suffering a great loss. The adults seem to enjoy it, too, and the tourists are growing ever thicker on the ground.”

      “You’ll understand soon. You’ll be even happier at Christmas once you’re sharing it with your own kidlet.”

      If only Jack could see that. “There’s my taxi.” Sophie waved as she went through the door. “See you later, Esther.”

      “Sing extra loud for me.”

      The carolers in their Victorian finery were already making the walls echo when Sophie stepped off the elevator on the hospital’s third floor. Dr. Everly came over to greet her.

      “I didn’t expect you. Everything okay?”

      Sophie held up her bag as she shrugged out of her coat. “I had a few things to deliver,” she said.

      “Oh, good. Always room under the tree.”

      Sophie added her packages to the impressive pile. “There aren’t this many children in the hospital?”

      “Whatever we don’t give out we take to the green for distribution later.”

      “Where’s Santa?” Sophie focused on folding her bag.

      “Waiting until all the children arrive. He doesn’t dare show his face early. There’d be a riot.”

      “How did Jack end up playing Santa?” she asked.

      “His grandfather used to play Santa, and now his dad does, but his parents are touring the country in an RV during the holidays. No one expects them back.”

      Sophie still didn’t understand that. Instead of providing a polite answer, she waited in silence, hoping Dr. Everly would explain. Sophie was eager for any tidbit that might explain Jack’s behavior.

      “They took care of Jack’s grandmother for years. She had debilitating epilepsy that couldn’t be controlled by medication. She endured several experimental surgeries and I don’t know how many drug trials. Nothing worked, and when she couldn’t be left alone, the whole family pitched in. She passed away recently, and the elder Bannings took