Welcome to Newtonberg (6 page)

Mike cleared his throat. “Um…what’s…what does
Janet have to do with this?”

The Widow Missus continued. “Janet is in
charge of organizing all the parts of the Festival involving Santa.
She makes sure he gets from the parade to the Workshop to meet the
children. She works
very close
with Santa.”

“She’s Santa’s little helper,” chimed in
Cap.

“Please, Mike. We need a Santa, and I think
you’d be perfect. Of course, you’d need a little padding. And you’d
need to work on disguising your voice a bit. But you could do
it.”

Mike sighed. How could he say no to the Widow
Missus? She had done so much for him since he’d moved to
Newtonberg. She’d even been the one who’d recommended him to the
council to fill the position of librarian after the previous
librarian, had retired.

“Okay,” he said. “For you. For the
children.”

For Janet
, he thought.

* * * * * * * *

The next few weeks were a blur.

The Widow Missus visited the library
frequently. She brought the red velvet Santa suit the town had
purchased for the Festival for him to try on. He changed into the
suit in his office, and then stepped out the door for her
approval.

She shook her head. “Needs a little padding.
You’re too thin.”

She reached over and grabbed a pillow off of
the couch where the library patrons would sit to read the papers
and magazines. “Try this.”

He went back into his office, stuffed the
pillow under his shirt, put the jacket back on and stepped out
again.

“Much better,” she said. “Now let me hear
your ‘Ho Ho Ho.’”

Mike took a breath and let out a deep “HO HO
HO.”

The Widow Missus was impressed. “Very
good.”

“I’ve been practicing.”

“Now, do you know what you’re going to say to
the children?”

Mike paused. “Merry Christmas?” he said,
tentatively.

“That’s a good start. But you need to find
out what they want for Christmas. Their parents will be nearby,
listening: that’s one way they find out what their children want.
And be sure to address each child by their name. You can ask their
name once, at the beginning, but don’t you dare forget it until
they’re off your knee and gone. Using their name makes each one
feel special.”

Mike sighed. He’d never remember all of
this.

“I know it sounds difficult. But once the
child is there with you, focus on them. Janet will take care of the
others. You only have to deal with one child at a time.”

She smiled at him. “You can do this, Mike. I
have faith in you. I always have.”

* * * * * * * *

The day of the Festival finally arrived. All
of the booths and tents were up. John and Joanna Swensen had tables
set up in their private dining room for all of the dessert auction
items. Cliff Magnuson had come by the Café to set up the microphone
and PA system for the auction.

The Workshop was set up, and the photographer
was arranged. The photographer was actually a high school National
Honor Society member who was participating in the 4-H Photography
show. The NHS sponsor required each member to perform a certain
amount of volunteer work each year, and this would fulfill the
requirement.

All Mike had to do was ride in Santa’s sleigh
(a 1957 Chevy Bel Air convertible provided by Rick Murchison’s
Texaco as part of the classic car show), waving to kids and tossing
out peppermints. Janet would meet him at the football field and
lead him to the Workshop to meet the children.

At 6:00, everyone involved with the parade
was at Swensen’s Café. The procession began with one of the
Newtonberg Fire Department’s trucks, sounding its horn to announce
the beginning of the parade. After that, there were floats from
various local organizations: the Kiwanis Club, the Lions, 4-H. The
Girl Scouts and Boy Scouts. Other groups fell into place behind
those until the Newtonberg High School marching band brought up the
rear, playing “Here Comes Santa Claus”, accompanied by Santa in his
“sleigh.”

Mike was inside the Café, hiding out in the
office so the Cub Scouts, Brownies, and other children involved in
the parade wouldn’t see Santa. He would climb into the car at the
last minute, seen only by the Swensens, Janet Carmichael, and Gene
Young, who was driving since Rick Murchison was busy filling in for
Al.

He’d managed to make it through the weeks
leading up to the parade without totally humiliating himself in
front of Janet. In fact, he’d begun to feel more comfortable around
her. He no longer got choked up, and he could answer her questions
with words longer than one syllable. He could look her in the eye
without his stomach knotting up. He’d actually begun to look
forward to seeing her each day.

There was a knock on the door. John Swensen
stuck his head in the room. Seeing Mike in his full Santa suit for
the first time, he smiled.

“My word, Mike. You’re the spitting image of
old Saint Nick himself. It’s like looking in a mirror.”

Mike gave him a grin. “I’ll take that as a
compliment.”

“You should. I bet Jo wouldn’t be able to
tell the difference between us if she walked in right now. Well, at
least until you spoke.” He chuckled. “Anyway, Janet sent me to
fetch you. The marching band is just about to start playing and
you’ll head out a minute or so after that.”

Mike put the hat on his head and grabbed the
bag of peppermints. “Thanks. I’m on my way.”

John left and Mike made his way toward the
back door of the Café, where the Bel Air was parked.

Janet met him there. “You ready?”

“I think so.”

“Just remember. Don’t worry about saying
anything right now. Save your voice. They can’t hear you over the
band anyway. Just wave and throw out the peppermints. The children
will be happy enough just to see you for right now. They’ll hear
you later at the Workshop.”

“Got it.”

“And Mike?”

He looked into her eyes. “Yes?”

She took his hand and gave it a squeeze.
“Thank you for this. The children really look forward to it. And
since Al couldn’t be here to do it, I’m glad Missus Johnson talked
you into it.”

He swallowed hard. “It didn’t take much
convincing. You know I’d do anything for Missus Johnson.”

She smiled. “I know.”

Just then the marching band struck up the
first chords of “Here Comes Santa Claus.”

“Hey, Santa!” called Gene. “Are we headed
down Santa Claus Lane or are we waiting for Rudolph and the
others?”

Mike gave Janet a smile. “Let’s go.” He
climbed into the back seat, settling onto the trunk with the bag of
candy. “Dash away all!”

Gene rolled his eyes. “You got it, big
guy.”

* * * * * * * *

The parade went by quickly. The children were
excited to see Santa Claus, and Mike had to admit that he enjoyed
it. The people lining Commerce Street to watch the procession were
all smiles, and no one seemed to mind or notice that Al wasn’t
playing Santa this year.

At the football field, Cliff Magnuson made
his way through the crowds checking on each booth, making sure that
there were no problems. As he walked, he stopped occasionally to
talk to the families waiting in line, greeting people he saw every
day as well as former residents who had moved away.

He paused briefly to say hello to Emily Kelly
and her husband. Emily, who had always considered Cliff to be a
surrogate grandfather, insisted that he hold Little Philip. He
hadn’t seen the baby before, except in the photograph that Cap
showed off every chance he had. He had to admit to feeling a bit
odd. He hadn’t held a baby since he’d held his own son, Jeff.

It was a bittersweet moment. Jeff would have
been a little younger than Emily, if he hadn’t been killed during
Operation Desert Storm. He was only 22. Cliff’s wife had never
quite gotten over it. She mourned his death every day until she
passed away herself, not too long after the Widow Missus lost her
husband.

At least Little Philip didn’t seem to be a
fussy baby. He didn’t cry at all when Cliff took him from Emily.
The baby stared up at him with wide, wondering eyes with his fist
in his mouth.

He stared at the small trusting face and
smiled.
Life goes on
, he thought.
We lose the ones we
love, but we can’t let that keep us from loving others
.

Cliff handed the baby back to Emily, wished
them all well, and headed to Santa’s Workshop to make sure
everything was ready for the kids. Mike was there, pacing.

“Where’s Janet?” asked Cliff.

“She’s off tracking down the photographer,”
Mike replied. “He was in the marching band and was supposed to
retrieve the camera from his mother.”

Cliff looked him over. “Well, you sure look
the part. The kids won’t even notice you’re not Al. You might even
give old John Swenson a run for his money.”

Mike chuckled. “He said the same thing.”

Cliff looked out at the crowd that was
beginning to gather and saw Janet making her way toward the tent
along with a teenager holding a camera. The young man was still in
his marching band uniform.

“Well, it looks like it’s just about time.
You ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Mike smiled at
him. “Have you got the whiskey?”

Cliff laughed, remembering the Founder’s Day
incident. “Nope. Never again. The hardest drink you’re getting from
me is root beer.”

Janet stepped into the tent. “Okay, Mike.
It’s time.”

Mike took a deep breath and stepped out. He
made his way to the overstuffed red velvet chair that was set up on
a small raised platform. A Christmas tree was set up on one side of
the chair. A small table with a bowl full of candy canes was on the
other. The chair itself had been brought over from the Widow
Missus’s boarding house, where it normally sat in a corner of the
living room. It had been her husband’s favorite chair and had been
used for every Christmas Festival since the beginning.

Mike sat down and looked out at the line of
children and parents waiting. It seemed to go on forever and he
knew it would be a few hours before he was finished.

At least it was well-organized. When a child
entered to meet Santa, the child’s parents were led to a waiting
area about ten feet away from the platform so they could hear what
the child said. Mike greeted the child, asked their name and what
they wanted for Christmas. After the child finished, they would
have their picture taken and Mike would hand them a candy cane.
Another helper (a high school girl also in need of volunteer
service as part of her National Honor Society membership) would
retrieve the picture and lead them to the waiting area to meet
their parents. Then Janet would lead the next child to the
platform.

When it came time for Little Philip Kelly to
have his picture taken, Cap asked Emily if he could take the baby
up to the platform. Emily agreed, and he gently took the sleeping
baby from her.

As he headed up to the platform, Cap looked
down at the face of his nephew and whispered to him. “Now, Little
Philip, I don’t want you to be afraid. This is a good friend of
mine. He won’t hurt you.” He smiled as he handed the baby to Mike.
“Isn’t he just the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?”

“Yes, he is, Cap. He’s beautiful.”

Mike looked into Little Philip’s face and
spoke softly. “So, you’re Little Philip, huh?” The baby kept his
eyes closed, not a care in the world.

“Well, since you can’t tell me what you want
for Christmas, let me tell you what I wish for you instead.

“My wish is that as you grow up you never
forget how much you are loved by your family: your mother, your
father, your grandmother, and especially your uncle. You’re not
just named after him, you’re a part of him; a piece of his spirit
and love that will live on long after he is gone.

“I also wish that you will never forget how
lucky you are to have a connection to this town. No matter where
you live, there is a part of you that is tied to this wonderful
place. This is your hometown. The people here are just as much your
family as those who are related to you by blood.

“But most of all, I wish for you a life of
happiness, contentment, and love. I can’t promise you that life
will be easy. But if you are happy with your choices in life,
content with where you are and what you do for a living, and have
the love of your family and friends, you have everything you’ll
ever need.”

He motioned to the photographer to take the
photo. As he handed the baby back to his uncle, there were tears in
Cap’s eyes. He’d heard everything Mike had said. “Thank you, Mike,”
he whispered.

Mike looked at him. “Merry Christmas,
Cap.”

* * * * * * * *

The Festival was over. Back at Swensen’s
Café, the dessert auction was underway. Mike had changed back into
his street clothes. He left the red velvet suit on a hanger in the
office; the Widow Missus would pick it up later so none of the
children would see him carrying it.

By all accounts, he had done very well. When
he’d arrived at the Café, several people had stopped by to
congratulate him. The Widow Missus had given him a hug and called
him “a fitting successor” to both Al and her husband. Cliff
Magnuson said that if Al wanted to leave town next Christmas as
well, he would have absolutely no problem with Mike taking over the
part again. Even Big Tom Wallace had stopped in to tell him that
he’d done a great job.

Janet had been strangely silent. While she
thanked him again for filling in before Gene Young had driven him
back to the Café, she had seemed a bit distracted. Perhaps it was
just that she was going over everything in her mind, making sure
that all of the arrangements had been made to have the Workshop
dismantled, the chair returned to boarding house, and so on.