Off-season
“No, it is him, look!”
It wasn’t the first time the old man had heard that shouted whisper between excited children, and wouldn’t likely the last.
“What’s he doing here?” one boy hissed to the other. “This is Gatlinburg, not the North Pole.”
“Maybe he’s on vacation, too,” the slightly smaller boy responded. Kid had a point. What beloved saint and childhood legend wouldn’t want to visit the Smoky Mountains and Dollywood? But first, he would want some breakfast at this diner, and if his stack of chocolate-chip pancakes came with fan adoration, well, that was just a hazard of wearing the beard.
Apparently tiring of the argument between the boys, age 10 and 8, he guessed, their little sister walked up to him to get an answer directly.
Looking up into the smiling round face of the man with the full white beard and the red shirt, she asked, “Are you…?”
“On vacation,” he responded, and gave her a wink.
Usually, at this point a child would run back excitedly, but this brave tot simply hopped up into the chair across the small table from the old man. She glanced back, to note that her brothers had stopped arguing and were staring at them. “It’s him,” she said matter-of-factly, and turned to face him. “Since you’re not working, I won’t ask you for anything.” She was one of those six-year-olds who would grow up to run a corporation, he mused to himself.
Moments later Mom showed up, “Emily!” she chided the girl, “Don’t bother this man while he’s eating.” To him, “I’m sorry, I was just over in the gift shop and my husband is settling the bill. I thought the boys” - giving a glance at them, now looking cowed -“were watching her.”
“That’s quite all right,” the man said pleasantly. “It seems Emily here has figured out who I am.” He added a work-with-me eyebrow raise. “She and her brothers aren’t bothering me at all.”
The mother smiled, “It’s a bit out of season.”
“I’m on vacation,” the man said. “But I can always make time for the children.”
At this point the two boys were by the table. “You look like you want to ask me something,” the man smiled to them.
“Are you Santa?” the younger one asked.
“Call me Chris,” the man answered.
“How are the reindeers?” he queried, with none of the sarcasm older children used.
“They’re quite fine. I trust you have been good kids,” all three nodded, and he continued, “ and June is a bit early to know what you’re going to ask me for.”
“Actually…” the older boy said.
“Oh?” the man said, amused. “Now, what’s your name?”
“Tom.”
“And I’m Jerry,” the younger boy volunteered. “Ak-chally it’s Stephen, but everybody calls me Jerry ‘cause I’m a tough little mouse.”
“I’m sure you are,” Chris said with a chuckle.
“I was looking at the national Toy Expo website,” Tom said, “and it had the next-generation interactive Flying Gyro-Warriors set that will be out this fall. And I was hoping…”
“That’s a tall order,” Chris said, glancing up and seeing Mom give a gentle nod. “But we might be able to manage.”
Tom’s face lit up. “Really?”
Chris pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. It was nearly full of names and other requests. “Let me get this down." Several minutes later, he had a rather extensive wish list from Jerry as well, while Mom, and now Dad, looked on.
He glanced at Emily. “And how about you?”
She stood on her chair to get closer to his face, “let me whisper it in your ear.” He turned his head. “A job for Daddy,” she softly said.
Chris looked to the parents while Emily sat back down. “Where are you good people from?” he asked.
“New Castle, Indiana,” the father said. “We have family down this way, and they promised the kids a Dollywood day last Christmas. So, we’ve got to get moving.” This last was directed at the children.
Chris noticed that bit of strain in the dad’s voice, indicating he couldn’t afford to give them this vacation on his own. The old man made a mental note to give his nephew in New Castle a call. “We’ll see what we can do about your wish,” he quietly said to Emily. She answered his smile with an even bigger one.
Soon Chris was alone again, finishing his breakfast. He was inwardly grateful that the children had not asked about “Mrs. Claus.” It was after Mary passed that he had let himself go, ironically gaining the weight and the uncut gray beard that gave him his alter ego. To force himself from wallowing in his depression, his retirement years were often spent going to places that he and she had loved to visit.
And at these vacation spots, children would find him. During the first encounter, on a whim, Harold Christopher Nichols asked to be called “Chris” rather than Harry. Since then, he kept the beard full and clean and made a point of wearing red shirts. And keeping the list.
A waitress approached his table. “Sir, your bill has been paid, by that gentleman.” She gestured towards the gift shop. He expected to see Tom, Jerry and Emily’s father standing there, but instead saw an older man, in full white beard and a green shirt. The stranger smiled, winked and held up a familiar-looking piece of paper.
Chris’s hand went to his pocket. He pulled out a small candy cane and a note: “Thank you so much. You make my vacation time so much easier. Keep up the good work. - S.C.”
He glanced back at the gift shop, but no one was there.
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This is my entry for LJ Idol Season 8, Week 30, Topic six of five, “ Vacation.”