Page 14 of Mishaps and Mistletoe

He cleared his throat and took a sip of his tea, unsure why he’d divulged that nugget of information to his new friends.

“You never saw Santa as a child?” Josie asked. It sounded even more pathetic coming from someone else’s mouth, though her tone was soft and rich with understanding. He lost himself in the various shades of green that swirled around the black center of her eyes, forgetting he was the reason for the lull in conversation.

“Uh, no.” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “My mother suffered from addiction, and, well… I didn’t have too many holiday traditions as a child.”

Josie leaned forward slowly, closing the distance between the two of them. When she reached across the table to cover his hand with hers, it gave him the courage to continue talking about something he rarely did.

“That’s, uh—that’s why I was so excited to do this today. I think we can all agree I’m a little too old to sit on Santa’s lap. I thought this was the next best way to check something off the old Christmas bucket list.” He laughed, but it lacked humor. Because this wasn’t funny. “Don’t get me wrong—I’ve created holiday traditions in my adult life.” Boring, lonely ones that would likely bum out the people here dressed like the cast of a Claymation film. “But I kinda missed the boat on all the fun ones kids get to do.”

The rhythmic strokes of Josie's thumb on the back of his hand pulled him from the unhappy memories of Christmas trees with no presents under them. Who was he kidding? Some years, there wasn’t even a tree. “Kevin, you’re never too old for holiday traditions. That’s the magic of Christmas.”

His eyes shot to her as he rapidly blinked, her words throwing him into a distinct memory.

Suddenly, he was fourteen, sitting on the beach with a girl vacationing with her family.

“I’ve been passed around like a side dish at a family dinner that no one wants, but everyone feels bad about because no one’s eating it. Not that I’d know much about family gatherings. Just once, I’d like to know what it feels like to have a home. A real one.” He knew it was a tad desperate to unload on a virtual stranger, but something about her made him want to talk. The way her eyes begged to hear more. The way her thumb traced small circles on the back of his hand.

“Well, it’s July 25th!” she shouted.

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“It’s Christmas in July, silly!”

“You aren’t seriously suggesting I write a letter to Santa Claus, are you? Because I think I’m a smidge too old for that.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. The only thing I know, Kevin, is you’re never too old for holiday traditions. That’s the magic of Christmas. No one ever outgrows believing in miracles.”

“Kevin.” He felt tiny squeezes on his hand, but his name sounded like someone was shouting it through a tunnel. His unfocused stare slowly corrected, and two pools of green were the first things he saw.

The Santa suit had obviously overheated him more than he’d realized. Hallucinations were probably the number one symptom of heat exhaustion. Or perhaps he’d suffered a fall he didn’t remember, and he was in a coma right now, imagining this entire afternoon. Much more plausible than the leaps his brain was making. Believing the woman who held his hand was the one he’d had his first kiss with almost twenty-five years ago? That was the heat talking.

“Here, bud.” Max placed a cup of ice water and a muffin on the table in front of him. “You look a little pale. Try to eat something.”

Bingo. He’d eaten nothing since breakfast. That had to be it. Low blood sugar made people feel loopy, right? This whole thing? Nothing a giant muffin with a day’s worth of calories couldn’t fix.

“What other things are on your Christmas bucket list?” Josie asked as he took a bite of the baked good. Had she been holding his hand this whole time?

“Well, I’d love to get a tree. I’ve only ever had artificial ones—not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course. I was just gonna grab one at the grocery store lot.”

“No, no, no,” Johnny dramatically interjected. “You can’t pick your very first tree off blacktop. Gotta have the complete experience… the dirt under your boots, the cold air in your lungs, the smell of pine in your nostrils.”

“You paint with words, Johnny,” Max said with a chuckle.

“Ignore him. Kevin McCallister, you need to be out in the country, saw in hand, the whole shebang. In fact—” Johnny rubbed the nonexistent facial hair on his chin. “We have a Christmas tree expert and enthusiast right here. What do you say, Josie? Wanna take Kev to the farm and show him how it’s done?”

She shot Johnny a sideways glance, a wordless exchange of a message Kevin couldn’t decipher. Josie’s face conveyed she was less than thrilled with the suggestion, so Kevin gave her an out.

“It’s alright. I don’t want to impose.”

Josie opened and closed her mouth twice before words came out. “It’s no imposition.” She retracted her hand from his, and he missed its warmth immediately. The metal charm on her bracelet caught the light each time she fidgeted with it, and he wondered what it was about tree shopping that had put her on edge. “I’ve been meaning to get into the Christmas spirit myself.” She looked over at Johnny, who gave her a single, encouraging nod. “I’d be happy to take you to Feisley’s if you’d like.” Her smile fell short of her eyes, and Kevin wondered if the crack of her voice when she mentioned the tree farm was a coincidence. Doubtful.

“Are you free tomorrow? he asked.

“Sure.”

“Atta girl,” Johnny patted her back as he stood from the table. “We’ll make a Christmas fan out of you yet, Jojo Ward.”

Johnny, Max, and Hannah left the table.

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