Page 12 of The Santa of the Mountain

“Oh god, it’s coming out the other way. Why did I wear so many layers?”

Now it’s my turn to curl into a fetal position. I know I haven’t been on many dates, but from my limited experience, I’m almost positive that no one has had a date like this. And this is just the first day. I’m supposed to endure nearly a week of this. I’m supposed to sleep in the same cabin as this man. I’m supposed…

“I quit,” I mutter out loud, hoping Juliet will pop out of thin air and rescue me. Ha ha! It’s a prank. But no dice. Instead, I pull out my phone, open up my text conversation with my sister, type out those same two words, and hit send. Unfortunately, there’s no service out here, so it doesn’t send, but it’s all prepped and ready to go the moment it returns.

I’ve been a good sport. I’ve done everything to make sure my sister has had the time of her life, all the while I’ve swallowed my pride and not to mention mydreamwedding to make her happy.

I’m done. Over it. Goodbye.Oh, no.I hear chittering. I hear Hank’s gruff warning reverberating in my ears.“…Woodland critters…”I glance at Rudolph. He’s standing sturdy.Unflappable.Phew. But the chittering is growing louder. It’s almost louder than the sloppy sounds coming from Evan.

“Easy, Rudolph,” I whisper, standing up to give him another once-over.

His ears are twitching. His tail is flicking. Those big clompers and chompers are moving up and down as he turns his head toward the noise. And then I see them—chipmunks. More than a dozen of them are racing towards us.

“Rudolph,” I beg as he starts to whinny. “Rudolph, please,” I cry when rears up on his haunches. “Whoa, whoa,whoa,” I scream as he rips the reins from my hands and takes off into the forest like a horse possessed, sending me backward into the sleigh.

This is it. I’m going to die out here. I have no idea where I am, and all that I have is a broken Bluetooth speaker, a worthless cell phone, eggnog not fit for human consumption, and a sack of food that I’m not sure is any better.

And that voice inside my head pipes up again:At least it can’t get any worse…

As I slowly trudge throughsnow that’s up to my knees, all I can think about is how I need to silence that voice because once again, it got worse. I can hardly see a thing with the wind blowing, kicking up icy snow. My cheeks are frozen. Both pairs. And I’m fairly certain I’ll have frostbite on all of my extremities unless I get eaten by wolves first.

At least it can’t—SHUT IT!

Phew. That felt a little better. But only for a moment as I continue trudging along, clutching my coat as though it’s doing anything. I’ve never seen this much snow before. I’ve never been socoldbefore. My jeans are soaked along with my gloves. And the reality of my situation is beginning to settle in.

I’m going to die. Seriously. There’s no one around me. Rudolph abandoned me hours ago when he leaped over a fallen log and the sled hit it, catapulting me out of the sleigh and into a snow drift. It took me a good ten minutes to dislodge myself.

And now I’m hopelessly lost in the wilderness with nothing and no one to save me. I tried to backtrack, following the path Rudolph took but after a few minutes, it disappeared, covered up with the freshly fallen snow.

Freshly fallen snow makes it seem nice. The kind of snow you could watch, snuggled up in a cozy chair, in front of a crackling fire as you dig into a nice book, sip hot cocoa, and listen to Bing Crosby singing about his dreams of a white Christmas.

But this snow is nothing like that. This snow… Now I’m hallucinating. I have to be. There’s light in the distance and traces of smoke.

See? I told—SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP!

I’m tired. I’m cold. I’m starving. But I’m heading for whatever that tiny beacon of light in the distance might be. Slowly, it grows larger. The smoke thickens. And eventually, I make it to a cabin. But I’m still pretty sure I’m hallucinating because now I’m hearing Christmas music. It’s faint and muffled but there’s no question I hearSanta ClausIs Coming to Town.And for some reason, I start singing it because why not?

The words come out faintly through chattering teeth as I make my way, inch by inch, to the front door. It’s painful to bend my knees, but as I grab the railing, I finally make it up the steps.

I can feel the warmth. I can smell something amazing. And when I knock on the door, I’m hoping for a miracle. But if the owner of this cabin is some crazed serial killer, great. At least my last memory won’t be of Evan spewing rotten eggnog over snow.

I knock again and again, unsure if I’m even making a sound with my gloved hands.

“Heege makefin fa lishp. Checkfin ih tice. Go fie ow ew nahee uh nife.” With my face and lips frozen, the lyrics are gibberish. And what little breath I use for them makes me feel faint. I see bright twinkling lights. I see stop motion Rudolph and the rest of the reindeer pulling a sleigh as they fly around my head. I see the door open.

I see…Santa Claus?

4

COLE

Time stands stillas I stare at the frozen bundle on my doorstep. I thought I was hearing things—debris or ice or clumps of snow hitting the walls from the storm. But something called me to open this door. Something called me to her for the second time today. And this time I’m not going to knock myself out.

“S-S-Santa?” she stammers through chittering teeth as time speeds back up.

She takes a step forward, falters, and every protective instinct inside me surges as I take her in my arms and pull her inside, kicking the door shut behind us.

“What are you doing out there?” My voice comes out harsh. It’s gruff and mean. I can’t help it. The thought of losing her in a storm like this is shredding me. How did she find herself this far up the mountain? It takes me half an hour to climb it in my truck on a good day.

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