Page 28 of Magic in Mistletoe
Martin’s eyes widened in surprise. “Really? That must’ve felt amazing.”
“Unbelievable,” she breathed, her chest swelling with pride. “I never thought I’d see the day when Eleanor’s gossip backfired on her.” Or when I’d be so accepted, she thought.
“I’m really proud of you for standing up to Eleanor and for your generosity toward the town,” Martin said. “And while you blame yourself for what happened after that show—”
Sadie cut him off. “It’s okay. Thanks to your support and the support of the town, I’m figuring things out, and I’ve realized that no one knows how they’re going to react in a situation like that. I reacted by smashing a few wine glasses and a vase. Not my proudest moment, but I’m a little bit wiser now and it’s time to move forward. And you know what? I think everything’s going to be okay.”
“I hope so too,” Martin said, his tone serious again. He took a sip of water. “I have something for you.”
“Really?” she asked, curious about what could elicit such a change in his demeanor.
“Close your eyes,” he instructed, and she complied, feeling a mix of excitement and trepidation. Why was Martin so serious?
When she opened them again, Martin held a small wooden box in his hands. It was intricately carved with delicate patterns, its aged wood polished to a rich sheen. She took it from him, marveling at the craftsmanship.
“Go ahead, open it,” he encouraged.
As she did, the tiny box unfolded, as if by magic, into an elaborate, magnificent music box. Tiny figures danced and twirled as a hauntingly beautiful melody began to play, echoing throughout the room. Sadie stared in wonder, her eyes wide with astonishment.
“Martin,” she breathed. “It’s...it’s incredible. How is this even possible?”
“That’s what I want to tell you.”
Sadie furrowed her brow, trying to decipher the meaning behind his words.
He paused momentarily, as if preparing himself for what he was about to say, making Sadie’s stomach tense up.
“There’s no easy way to say this, so I’m just going to say it.” He took a breath. “I’m Santa Claus.”
“Excuse me?” she snorted, her face contorting into a mixture of disbelief and annoyance. The romantic atmosphere dissolved instantly, replaced by a palpable tension.
“Santa Claus,” he reiterated calmly, as if the words were the most natural thing in the world. “I know it sounds preposterous, but it’s true.”
“You expect me to believe that you, Martin Kringle, are actually Santa Claus?” she scoffed, standing so quickly her chair tipped over. She ignored it, crossing her arms defensively and staring down at Martin. “I knew it was too good to be true. Did you enjoy playing me for a fool?”
Martin stood and faced her. “Of course not,” he replied, reaching for her hand, but she stepped back. “I would never mock you, Sadie. All I want is for you to know the truth.”
“The truth that you’re Santa Claus? That’s absurd!”
“Sadie, please,” he implored, his eyes pleading with her to give him a chance to explain. “Think about it. How does the music box work, if not by magic? Why do I have a sleigh? My last name is Kringle, for Pete’s sake.”
She hesitated, recalling the enchanting music box, the sleigh rides through the snow, the mysterious donation of Christmas lights to the town, his grandfather named Kris Kringle, Martin’s kind heart, and the undeniable affection she felt for this man. But admitting that Martin was the embodiment of a magical, mythical being seemed like a bridge too far.
“Even if there is more to you,” she said, her voice wavering, “that doesn’t mean I can accept this...this fantasy of yours.”
“All I ask is for you to keep an open mind,” he replied, his expression softening. “There are things in this world that defy explanation.”
Sadie’s heart raced as she weighed his words against her own beliefs. Could it be possible? Could the magic she had witnessed tonight—and the inexplicable connection she felt with Martin—be evidence of something...unknown?
She sighed. “I’m not sure. I want to believe you, I honestly do, but you seriously can’t expect me to take your word for something so fantastical.”
“I can prove it,” he blurted. “And I swear to you, on the magic of Christmas itself, that I am telling the truth.” Martin’s voice was so sincere that she allowed him to take her hands in his. “Let me prove to you I’m Santa Claus.”
As his words slowly sank in, Sadie found herself questioning everything she knew, or thought she knew, about the world around her. The once-grumpy skeptic now faced an impossible choice: to embrace the magic that had eluded her for so long or to cling stubbornly to her old beliefs.
Did even thinking that mean she was becoming entangled in his delusion? There was only one way to find out.
“Alright,” she said. “Prove it.”
