The Santa Man

Chapter 17

"How are the kids feeling?" Hip asked the distraught father, still acting casual as if they had all the time in the world.

"Joe, my youngest, had a touch of flu, but the others are okay. Amy was hit pretty bad. She's run down from the two jobs and driving back and forth."

"I have my emergency kit in the truck." With that, Hip was out the door.

She set her box of gifts on the wood floor. "I'm Sarah, a...friend of Hip's. Should I hide these? We've got two more boxes of presents out in the truck."

The man's dark eyes filled with tears. "I can't believe that folks have done this for the children," he choked out. "I've worked hard all my life, and have never accepted a lick of charity. 'Til now." He took a deep breath and rubbed his head, making his gray-tipped yellow hair look even worse. "It's been one hell of a year."

"Let's hide the presents for now," Sarah suggested. She saw a painted door she hoped would be a closet and pointed to it. "How about in there?"

"Sure. There's room," he said, lifting the box. He shoved it inside, under a curtain of winter coats, just as Hip returned with his medical bag. He shared a look with her before following Greg Johnson out of the room and up a flight of stairs between the kitchen and the living room.

A little boy who looked about three, his thumb in his mouth and wearing Star Wars pajamas, came around the corner. Eyeing her curiously, he took his thumb out of his mouth long enough to ask, "What's goin' on?"

"Well, I've brought Christmas dinner and someone is here to make your mom feel better." She unwound her scarves, removed her gloves and shrugged her jacket off. Setting everything on a chair, Sarah moved into the kitchen to put the food away. The box from Willing sat on the counter behind a yellow kitchen table piled with dirty dishes and the leftovers from lunch, Sarah guessed. It looked as if the children had had to fend for themselves.

She pushed up the sleeves of her sweater and decided she'd load the dishwasher, which would free up counter and table space to unpack the groceries. The kitchen was blue and white, with yellow accents and white lace curtains on the window above the sink. It was an old home, one of those houses featured on decorating shows with "before" and "after". Sarah liked the "before" of this place, and set to work putting it in order.

An audience appeared, all gorgeous blond and blue-eyed children. The little boy with the ever-present thumb, two girls who looked about four or five years old and were obviously twins, and an older boy who glared at her with great suspicion.

"Hi," she said. "I'm Sarah."

"Hi," the girls said in unison. They both smiled shyly.

The oldest child frowned. "Where did you come from?"

"I live in Missoula, but I'm helping Hip—he's the man talking to your mom and dad upstairs—deliver food for Christmas." She held up a package of cookies sprinkled with red sugar crystals. "Who likes cookies?"

"We do," one of the girls said. All four children stepped closer to see.

"First you tell me your names," Sarah explained, smiling down at them in her best welcoming teacher manner.

"Julie and Janie," one of the girls announced.

"Joe," the little one said from around his thumb.

"Jack." The oldest boy chanced a smile. "I'm six. They're four, and Joey's the baby."

"Am not!

"Am, too," Jack declared. "He's three, but he's still a baby."

"It's nice to meet you all," Sarah said, handing each one a cookie she suspected had been baked by the famous Lucia Hove. She took one for herself before zipping the bag closed. "Let's get this kitchen cleaned up for your mom. Can you help me clear the table?"

She was stacking dishes in the sink when Hip and Greg Johnson came into the room. Greg went straight to the phone. Hip raised his eyebrows at her. With a slight nod of his head, he motioned her towards the door, so Sarah wiped her hands on a dishtowel and hurried across the room.

"We've got a problem," Hip said.