The Santa Man

Chapter 14

"I ask a lot of questions," Sarah said. "I think it comes from being a teacher."

"How long have you been teaching?" Hip asked her, very glad to change the subject away from him.

"Eight years."

Which would make her older than he'd first thought. Almost thirty? "And you like it?"

"I love it." She flashed him another dimpled smile. "I love kids. It's exhausting, keeping all those little brains occupied, but I do so love teaching. Do you like being an EMT?"

"It's actually only a volunteer job," Hip explained. "I build guitars for Jake Hove."

"Jake Hove," she mused. "That name sounds familiar."

"He used to tour a lot, but he's in Willing now. He writes country western songs and is one heck of a guitar player."

"And he makes guitars?"

"He bought a business in Austin and moved it here, to Willing. He used to live in Nashville, but he and his daughter decided to settle in Montana."

"Was he one of bachelors on the show?"

"No, he came once we were waiting for the show to be televised. He's going to marry Aurora, the bartender, as soon as she decides how to do it without the television cameras around. The mayor's pushing for another wedding to advertise the town as the romance capital of Montana. And Aurora will do anything to make the mayor crazy." He peered through the windshield at the graying sky. "We'd better hurry up. The next four are pretty close together. Families trying to survive in a dead town."

He slowed the truck as they approached what used to be a main street with a smattering of businesses along both sides. Every commercial building was either boarded up or deserted.

"I hope you brought a lot of toys," Sarah murmured, as he turned onto a side street marked "Larch Lane". She reached for the list. "Two families here, at Seven Larch and Forty-two Larch. Seven Larch gets box number nineteen, and forty-two gets box number twenty. And they both get food boxes."

"Got it," he said, pulling up in front of a tidy one-story blue house. Two little faces peered out of the front window, and one of the children waved.

"I'll help," Sarah said, hopping out of the truck the minute he turned it off. She waved back at the kids and gave them a big smile. A Sarah smile, he saw, complete with dimples and joy.

Why would her husband divorce a woman like this? He shook his head as he opened the back and lifted a box of tissue-wrapped gifts into Sarah's waiting arms. "I'll get the food," he said. "It's heavier."

"Am I Mrs. Santa or am I an elf, one of Santa's helpers?"

"What?"

"I have to tell the children something," she said, laughing. "They look young enough to still believe."

"You're definitely an elf," Hip declared, meeting those laughing blue eyes. "Mrs. Santa is much too old."

He watched her deliver the boxes, talk to the children in both families and smile as she asked them about themselves and wished them a Merry Christmas. Their mothers were thrilled and grateful for the gifts of food. One of them cried, while her stoic husband gathered her into his arms and mumbled his gruff thanks.

Hip swallowed a lump in his throat as he and Sarah made the other two deliveries at the edge of town.

Back in the truck once again, Sarah choked back a sob and blew her nose.

"Sorry," she said."Those kids—"

"I know." He cleared his throat. "They're going to have a decent Christmas now."

"Thanks to you."

"I didn't—"

He was interrupted by the ringing of her cell phone, which she took out of her purse and answered. Her friend was calling again to make sure she hadn't been murdered, abducted or attacked.

"I'm fine," Sarah insisted. "My Santa and I have been delivering presents."

My Santa.