Page 26 of Winter Reckoning
I woketo the smell of pancakes. Staring up at the wooden beams, I couldn’t tell if I dreaded the reality of today, or if it made me excited. Downstairs, loud humming gave away Nick’s mood. For all the lifetimes he outlasted, he still couldn’t sing. It didn’t stop his off-key, tuneless droning. A year later, and it still made me crack a smile. Not that I’d ever admit it.
I opened my eyes. The past few months had been Nick’s “busy” season. Tonight would mark the end for another year. He and Charlene had been going back and forth about ways of speeding up production and a partnership with a manufacturer for those high-tech toys. I thought I knew what I had gotten myself into, but nothing prepared for the electricity vibrating through the cabin this morning.
Heading downstairs, Nick stood in the kitchen, spatula in hand, flipping pancakes on a griddle. He promised they were an ancient recipe and part of the game day ritual. He wore a green shirt covered in reindeer. I learned he only wore two colors, red and green. Even his vast assortment of underwear followed the pattern. Much like me, he was a creature of habit.
He noticed me watching and smiled. "Morning."
"Morning."
I moved into the kitchen. The table was already set. Two of everything sat out on the same counter we had first shared a bowl of soup. Two oversized mugs waited for coffee. Normal… if you overlooked the fact that I shared a bed with the one and only Santa Claus. I still had to pinch myself if I thought about it for too long. Surprisingly enough, the hardest part of dating the big man was keeping his identity a secret.
I filled both mugs. I took a sip and caught the taste of chocolate and mint. He might not need to worry about his cholesterol, but the doc said I needed to watch my numbers. No matter how many times I wrote “Clean bill of health” on a Post-it and pressed it against Nick’s chest, he still hadn’t delivered. He claimed that’s why he “let” me take the reindeer for walks. I think I had been bamboozled.
I handed him one as he plated another pancake. "Thank you."
“Are you going to explain the pancakes?”
“Nothing to explain. The Stone Ages were rough on everybody. I thought they needed something to cheer them up.” I couldn’t tell if he was joking. There had been a learning curve dating a man older than time. “A few thousand years later, and they’re still my favorite.”
Mrs. Claus never existed as we know her now. She had been one of his interns. After a few trips around the globe on the sleigh, the world assumed they were married. Rudolph wasn’t real either. Frosty the snowman had been his office manager for years and still maintained the North Pole production line. The worker elves? Yup, elves from a pocket dimension he liberated from a dragon. To be fair, he could have been lying about all of it. He recounted tales, and I noted every time a smile spread across his face.
I sat at the counter as he delivered the pancakes. I might not understand the tradition, but I wouldn’t say no to Vermont maple syrup. As Nick sat down, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out something small. He set it on the table between us.
“What’s this?”
“A gift.” No surprise, giving gifts was Nick’s love language. I quickly learned there were no protests that could stop him. I guess it came with the territory.
A three-inch tall snowman. It wasn’t entirely smooth, still showing the blade marks where it had been carved by hand. Around its neck, he had etched a design into a tiny scarf. There was no point in saying niceties like, “You shouldn’t have.” He could give any gift written on a letter, but this, he had taken time to whittle it down from a stick.
"For you," Nick said.
I picked it up. The craftsmanship was incredible. Every detail had been intentional, nothing rushed or careless. I couldn’t fathom when he had the time in his busy schedule.
"When did you make this?"
"Last night. While you were sleeping." I turned it over in my palm. “I meant to make one for you years ago.” He shot me a wink. “You still turned out alright.”
"Thank you."
I had fought supervillains and saved hundreds if not thousands of people. I had protected presidents and ambassadors. The missions were tough, but nothing compared to finding a gift for the king of gift giving. I had thought long and hard about what I’d get him. Charlene had checked my list, dismissing everything. I could still see her nose crinkled at my ideas.
It had taken time, but I found the perfect gift.
Dashing to the entry closet, I pulled out a small box I had hidden in one of my shoes. I returned with the poorly wrapped present. “I wanted you to have this.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his glasses. When he put on the round spectacles, he transformed into the legendary Santa. He wasn’t so different from the superheroes in Vanguard. When he donned the glasses, hat, and jacket, he transformed into his own kind of hero. I liked both versions. Maybe once or twice I had him wear the jacket to bed.
“It’s not much.” He tore at the paper like a madman. Nick apparently loved getting gifts as much as he did handing them out.
He pulled off the lid, his eyes going wide. He lifted the brass-colored badge. He let out a gasp as he turned it over. “I can’t accept this. It’s your father’s?—”
“I want you to have it.”
His arm reached across the table. His fingers wiggled, waiting for me. I rested my hand in his. With a tight squeeze, I couldn’t help but crack a smile. That badge represented the very reason I first put on the suit. Later, it’d motivate me to join the Task Force. Dad had been a hero, and not because he wore a gun on his hip. It was all the things he did that never warranted attention.
“Every hero deserves a badge.”
“But—”
