Santa's Big Helper Read online

  Santa's Big Helper

  Olivia Gaines

  Published by Olivia Gaines, 2014.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  SANTA'S BIG HELPER

  First edition. December 14, 2014.

  Copyright © 2014 Olivia Gaines.

  ISBN: 978-1502252807

  Written by Olivia Gaines.

  Table of Contents

  Contents

  Dashing through the snow...

  Opening the Sleigh...

  Ho, Ho, Hold Up...

  The Ghosts of Christmases Past...

  Is Santa... Okay?

  Making Believe

  A Wish from Santa

  Bells on Bobtails Ring...

  Stirring the coals...

  The Darkening of the Day...

  Making Spirits Bright...

  He made a list, and checked it twice...

  O’er the Fields We Go...

  The Power of Christmas...

  Laughing All the Way...

  Here Comes Santa Claus...

  Right Down Santa’s Lane...

  Davonshire House Publishing

  PO Box 9716

  Augusta, GA 30916

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s vivid imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, are entirely a coincidence.

  © 2014 Olivia Gaines, Cheryl Aaron Corbin

  Editor: Rachel Bishop

  Cover: koougraphics.net

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means whatsoever. For information address, Davonshire House Publishing, PO Box 9716, Augusta, GA 30916.

  ASIN:

  Printed in the United States of America

  1 2 3 4 5 6 7 10 9 8

  First Davonshire House Publishing November 2014, Slivers of Love Series

  DEDICATION

  For my bibliophiles.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  To all the fans, friends and supporters of the dream as well as the Facebook community of writers who keep me focused, inspired and moving forward.

  Write On!

  “Easy reading is damn hard writing.”

  - Nathaniel Hawthorne

  Dashing through the snow...

  In the middle of a cold December afternoon, Nick Pines stood in the bathroom of Ms. Mingledorff’s master bathroom with an auger in hand, cranking down the toilet stink hole in an attempt to find little Johnny’s toy. She, of course, was convinced that is what was plugging up the artery and causing the backup, which flowed all over the “Italian tiles.” The backup, her cause of woe on this day, which is what soaked the vegetable-dyed rugs that stained the very expensive “Italian tiles.” Common sense is not that common.

  It was also not uncommon in the master bathrooms to find the drains clogged with feminine care items and other things that should not have been flushed. His phone buzzed. It was his dad. Need help. So did this toilet. But the owner of the toilet paid and there were still six more payments to make on his truck. Toilet, then, Pops. The phone buzzed again. Need you now! Three more cranks and whatever was clogging the drain broke loose and he had it in the grips of the auger. He began to pull on the coil as the putrid water began to slowly disappear down the porcelain hole. “Let’s see what we have here,” he said as the silver snake brought up its treasure. In his head, he had reasoned out it was either Spiderman or a Batman action figure. Instead, Nick found it was a silver, now corroded, toy which belonged to Ms. Mingledorff. No need to embarrass the lady. He wrapped it in a work cloth and stuck it in his toolbox. His phone buzzed again.

  Need a doctor now!

  Not good. Not good. Not good.

  “Ms. Mingledorff,” he yelled into the cavernous bedroom, hoping his voice would travel to wherever the lady was hiding. He called to her again as he collected his tools and rinsed the auger in the sink. “I have to run, I have another emergency,” Nick called out as he closed up his toolbox. He turned to enter the master bedroom where he found Ms. Mingledorff.

  On the bed.

  In a hot pink teddy and a come hither look on her face.

  I’m sorry Ma’am. I don’t provide that kind of service. That was what he was thinking, but after what he found in the toilet, maybe she needed her drain unclogged as well. Instead, he gave her a warm smile, “Very nice, but I have another emergency I have to get to...” he allowed his words to trail off before he looked in the box for the charging pad.

  “It only took a few minutes to clear the drain and everything is working nicely,” he said and handed her a bill for his service.

  Kay Mingledorff wasn’t a bad looking woman. She was just not to his liking. Alabaster skin, upturned nose, fiery red hair and annoying as hell. This was his third call to her home in a month and he realized, at that moment, that she was luring him here. He didn’t care, he just wanted the check. Service provided. Pay me.

  “Nick,” she said with a whine. “You are always so busy. I was hoping that you and I could spend some time,” she told him as she bent over in the extremely high heels to grab her check book.

  “I’m in a committed relationship, Ms. Mingledorff,” he lied to her.

  “What she doesn’t know...”

  He took the check from her hand. “Yes, but I will know. I am not that type of guy.”

  She wasn’t going to let it go. She made a move towards him. This could get ugly. He sat his toolbox down and quickly opened it to retrieve the cloth. He locked the toolbox back and unraveled the material.

  “I found this in your toilet,” he thrust the battery corroded personal pleasure toy at her. The embarrassment turned her alabaster skin to hot pink. He grabbed the check from her hand and made his way towards the front door. “Thank you for using Pine’s Plumbing,” and he made his way to his truck and headed out.

  His phone chirped again. In trouble. Where are you?

  Triple not good. Nick drove as fast as he could through the Virginia snow to get to the mall. He hated this time of year. Insincere people making insincere gestures wishing you season’s greetings laced with piss and vinegar as they go to their homes and teach their children hatred. His father told him he was angry, bitter and full of piss and vinegar himself, but he wasn’t like his dad.

  Charlie Pines was well known in the community of Harrisonburg, Virginia. Since Nick had been a small boy, Big Charlie had served as the town’s Santa. From the day after Thanksgiving to the day before Christmas, Big Charlie worked everything from Christmas parties and lodge events, to the children’s hospital and more. He spread his holiday cheer to every man, woman and child that he could reach. The other 11 months of the year, Big Charlie was a plumber. A very good one that was often paid in favors, toys for the kids, and other irrelevant items that did not pay the bills. The business was failing when Nick acquired it and assumed the helm. It took nearly two years to turn it back around and get it in the black. This was also the same amount of time it took to understand the mountain of debt his father had incurred with his side business as Santa. There had been no choice but to sell his childhood home, which had fallen into disrepair, and move his father in with him.

  That was five years ago. It was also the time he retired his dad. His only job now was on occasion, lending him a hand and doing what he loved to do, which was to be Santa. Yet Nick was worried. From the tone of text messages, Santa was in trouble.

  He entered the mall parking lot on two wheels coming up to center court where he knew his father would be, right near the food court. He pulled his truck up to the door as mall security was fast approaching, but backed off when they saw it was
him. “Anything wrong, Nick?” Johnny Gubnell asked as he saw Nick bound from the truck and take off running.

  “Not sure, got a 9-1-1 from Santa,” Nick said as he grabbed the handle of the mall door and ran inside. He reached the center of the mall to find his dad with a long line of children waiting to sit on his lap. Nick’s eyes went to his dad’s face. His pallor was ashen, his face was drooping and Nick knew his dad was truly in trouble.

  How do I do this? How do I do this? How do I do this?

  Nick ran to his dad’s side, “I gotcha Santa,” he told him as he helped the cute little girl with the Afro puffs down from Santa’s lap.

  “Patience,” he told his son.

  “I have to get him to the hospital,” he whispered to the elf that was assigned to aid his father. “I have to get him out of here. He is sick. Handle the crowd.”

  The girl could not have been more than sixteen. She looked at Nick as if he had asked her to dance on Santa’s pole. She made the announcement and the ripple of awws and sad faces almost moved him, but his dad was suffering.

  Evidently, so was he.

  A young black woman, dressed in a skirt too tight, moderate heels and a goofy Christmas sweater, walked up to him. “And what do you think you are doing?”

  “Santa’s not feeling too good, ma’am,” he told her as he grabbed his father’s things.

  “And who are you? Santa’s Big Helper?”

  “No, I am Santa’s son,” he said as he helped his father stand.

  Big Charlie mumbled, “Patience.”

  “Yes, I am running out of it, Dad,” he said as he took the brunt of his father’s weight. At six feet four inches, Big Charlie was a lot of man. In his weakened state, he was also very heavy. Nick nearly buckled.

  The lady was not budging. “I drove over an hour on a school bus to bring these kids to the mall to see Santa. I would appreciate an explanation.”

  Nick looked at her. Cute. She was really cute. “Lady, I am sorry for your inconvenience, but I have to get Santa out of here.”

  He dropped the bag. He would either have to get it later or write it off as a loss.

  “Inconvenience! You are going to traumatize these children,” she told him with her feet planted firmly and her hands on her hips.

  Nick leaned in close to her, still holding his Dad on one side, “It will traumatize them more if they see Santa crumple. He is having a stroke, Lady, I need to get him out of here.”

  “Oh, dear God, let me help,” she said.

  “Patience,” Big Charlie said again.

  The woman grabbed his bag as she told her assistant she would be right back. Santa was having a tummy ache. The kids were crying, the elf was doing her best to get the mall manager on the radio and Nick was struggling with his father’s weight. The woman came around to the other side, draping Big Charlie’s other arm over her shoulder as she helped Nick get him to the truck.

  It would be an understatement to say his name was a misnomer, because Big Charlie took his job as Santa seriously. He had the girth to the match the height and the weight to make him a very credible jolly old elf. At 70 years old, he just could no longer maintain such size and be healthy. Getting the seat belt around his waist was a prime indicator. The young lady had to nearly climb into the truck and sit on Charlie’s lap to fasten the buckle.

  Nick was feeling like an ass because the top of her sweater fell open to reveal two perfect milk chocolate breast that he found himself wanting to... “Hey are you listening to me?”

  “Sorry, I need to get moving,” he said.

  “Which hospital are you taking him to?”

  “Sentara,” he told her as he threw the truck into gear. Big Charlie touched the lady’s hand. “Patience,” he said as he looked at her.

  Nick watched the exchange between her and his father. “Hang in there, Santa. Everything is going to be just fine.” She stepped back from the truck. “Go!” she yelled at Nick, who only nodded as he sped off, dashing through the snowy sludge to get to the hospital.

  “Don’t die on me, Dad,” he said to his father’s slumping body.

  Opening the Sleigh...

  Big Charlie looked so sad laid up in the hospital bed. Heart monitors had been attached to him, oxygen tubes were in his nose, IVs in his arm, and his eyes were closed. Nick sat by his side, staring at him. He had been so strong for so many years, giving so much to so many, and here he lay, weak and vulnerable, and none of those people were going to show up. None of them were going to give a damn that his father could be dying. He bet they would call to see if Santa was going to be available make it to their gig.

  Sometimes, he just hated people.

  He hated Christmas even more.

  Big Charlie stirred, “Patience.”

  “I am trying, Dad,” Nick said as he rose to stretch his legs. “I’m going to see if I can rustle up a cup of coffee. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  It had been nearly two hours of testing, blood draws and non-descript doctors poking and prodding at the old man, who took everything in stride. Never one complaint, even when the young nurse could not find the vein in his arm. Big Charlie never complained. He was always willing to help his fellow man. Nick left the room only to be silently replaced by a young woman who brought Santa a warm cup of cocoa and an oatmeal raisin cookie.

  “I know you aren’t supposed to have this in here, but you know, you only live once,” she told him as his watery eyes met hers. “Patience,” he said as a tear fell down his cheek. The young woman wiped it away.

  “Yes, Santa. Patience.”

  It was hard to imagine that 25 years had passed since the first time she met Big Charlie Pines. Her first meeting with him was the Christmas of her fifth year of life. As a resident of the Holly Oak Presbyterian Mission House, she lived there with 75 other children waiting for a home. With each year that passed, many of the children knew their chances for finding a home were slim. Parents wanted a child that was young enough to mold, not one they had to scold. She was in that window. In another year her cuteness would wear off and she would be a kid. Or rather another kid no one wanted. Her first Christmas season, she and at least twenty other kids were loaded onto the bus and driven to the mall to see Santa. She climbed aboard his lap, and made her wish. “Santa, I want a mommy and daddy,” she asked him. His brown eyes looked at her with sincerity.

  “I will see what I can do, child. Have some patience.”

  The next year, a bit older, and still full of hope, she went back to the mall and made the same request. Again Santa told her to have some patience.

  At the age of seven, she did not understand what this word was that he kept asking her to have because she was getting old. She was exiting the cute phase and entering the kid phase of either being taken in for a check, abuse or to serve as a helper of adults. She wanted a mom and dad.

  When she returned to the mall at 8 years old, she was tired of sitting on Santa’s lap asking for something she would never get – parents. This year she didn’t even bother to get in line. She sat in the food court, munching on a cookie, as the other kids climbed aboard his lap. The line was not long this year and Santa got up from his chair and joined her at the table.

  “You didn’t come see me this year. Have you given up?”

  “I’m out of patience, Santa, no one wants me now. I’m too old to be adopted,” she told him as she offered him half of her cookie.

  “I’m sorry to hear that because this year, I am able to actually grant your wish,” he told her as he bit into the cookie piece she had given him. “Oatmeal raisin is my favorite!”

  Skeptical eyes looked at Big Charlie in disbelief. But a young African-American couple walked over to the table as Santa rose and shook their hand. “Sweetheart,” he said to the child, “this is Andrea and Reginald Nelson. They would like to meet you and talk to you about possibly being their little girl.”

  The couple sat down at the table with her as Santa took his half of the cookie and went back to his Chris
tmas chair. The lady had nice eyes and a warm smile. The man looked as if he only wanted to make his wife happy. What would make Andrea happiest of all was to be a mother to a child. It was okay with the girl. She wanted parents and to get out of the orphanage.

  It worked out pretty swell. Andrea turned out to be a great mom and Reginald learned to love her and turning into a pretty good dad. She, in return, was the best kid any parents would ever want. She graduated high school and received several scholarships for college. She even went to the university and completed her degree in social work with honors. It was no surprise to her parents when the first job she applied for and received was as a social worker for the same orphanage she grew up in. As their social worker, she worked tirelessly to do for the kids what Santa did for her, find them parents.

  Each Christmas season she would load up the school bus and schlep the kids an hour and a half to the mall to sit on Santa’s lap. Hope was critical to a child’s development, because without hope, the innocence of childhood fades. This she knew firsthand. Santa for many kids symbolized hope that they had not been forgotten.

  As she sat by Big Charlie’s bed, she patted his hand. “I am not giving up hope for you, Santa. I am praying hard.” She stood and kissed his cheek, brushing down the white whiskers that covered the lower half of his face.

  “What are you doing in here?” a strong male voice asked.

  Startled, she turned to find his son standing in the doorway. “I’m sorry, I was just checking on Santa here, making sure he is okay.”

  Nick wasn’t sure if his discomfort in her being here was because it was awkward, or because he found himself attracted to her, but either way, he wanted an explanation.

  “Do you do that often, check on random strangers and kiss them when they are unconscious?”

  “He’s not unconscious, are you, Santa?” Big Charlie shook his head no. His eyes remained close.