Page 48 of Run, Run Rudolph
“Thanks.”
“Are you okay, Santa?” I repeated. The sleigh was too high. I couldn’t reach over the side to find the inside handle with my mittened hands.
Santa muttered something nonsensical.
Comet turned from his spot near the front of the herd. “He might’ve hit the tree when we stopped. Please check on him.”
“I’m trying.”
“Hurry up. Climb over the side,” Dasher added impatiently as I tried to figure out how to get my leg high enough to hoist myself over the sleigh’s side, which was at collarbone height. I did the odd workout, mostly out of guilt after watching a news story about obesity or preventable illnesses related to physical inactivity, but I knew without trying that I wasn’t strong enough to do a full body chin-up lift thing over the side of the sleigh.
“Step on the curly part at the front,” Prancer suggested.
I aimed my light toward the front of the sled and, sure enough, the runners curled up into a decorative swirl at the front of the sleigh. As I angled my body into position to launch myself over the front of the sleigh and onto the seat beside Santa, the reindeer began bickering.
“I told you to turn,” Dasher said to Blitzen, who I noted no longer had decorated antlers. “Are you still drunk?”
“We all should’ve turned. Together,” Comet said calmly. “We should’ve slowed down, too.”
“I don’t do slow,” Dasher said simply.
“Only mentally,” Dancer said in his Swedish accent, and someone snickered.
“Everyone shut up,” Cupid bellowed. “Let the humanoid do her thing. I have a date tonight.”
“Her name is Tamara,” Prancer said. “Learning people’s names is important, Cupid.”
“Hey, Cupid,” Donner called. Like Blitzen, he’d also ditched the festive decorations from his antlers for the Rudolph rescue flight with Santa. The party was over, and it gave me hope that the herd would be more helpful moving forward. “What’s her horse’s name again?”
“Luscious,” he said with confidence.
“Is not!” several of them chorused.
“Whatever,” he muttered.
“It’s Dolly,” Prancer said smugly.
I swung my light around, still struggling to vault my way into the sleigh. Finally, by some miracle in physics, I managed to hoist myself onto the edge of the cab. I balanced precariously on my stomach for a half second before toppling inside, headfirst, landing on the sleigh’s floor. I scrambled in my bulky parka, righting myself, then placed myself on the seat beside the large man in the red and white suit. I took a slow breath to calm myself, excited to be sitting next to the one and only Santa inside his flying sleigh. I wanted to touch him, ask for something fun for Christmas, but the idea that he was real was still so overwhelming. I sat for a moment, simply staring at the man.
His beard was long and thick, a beautiful white, his cheeks indeed rosy. Not a shopping mall wannabe. The real deal.
Was this how Char had felt when she’d first discovered our fairy godmother was real? Excited and slightly lightheaded?
No, she’d been skeptical and freaked out.
Two adjectives that did not describe me meeting Santa.
“Well? How is he?” Comet asked. “Santa? How are you?”
“Mhm,” Santa mumbled.
I gently touched Santa’s arm to get his attention, shining my light away from his face so I didn’t blind him.
“My name is Tamara.”
“Tamara Rose Madden. Eagle Ridge, Carl Gerson’s farm. You want a boyfriend for Christmas.”
I blushed, flicking the flashlight’s beam over the snickering herd to my left. Suddenly, they became very studious about watching the falling snow, with the exception of Cupid, who I swore was grinning at me.
