Page 21 of Run, Run Rudolph (Fairy Godmothers and Other Fiascos #2)

~ Haden ~

T here was a glow of determination in Tamara’s eyes by the time she parked her car and marched Rudolph into the barn along with the rest of the herd. I hoped they understood what they were up against.

Tamara might be a sweetheart, but she also had a way of making things go in the direction she thought best. I’d heard how kind and firm she could be with the kindergarteners in her school, and how she had them following her orders like imprinted ducklings within a day.

Hearing stories about Tamara always filled me with something I couldn’t describe.

It was part pride and part something else that left me feeling good inside.

She deserved to be recognized for all she did for others, and there needed to be more people like Tamara in the world.

She was the type of person who inspired others.

For example, I probably wouldn’t have thought to offer free care to animals in need every day throughout the month of December without her role modelling.

And I knew some of her financial constriction this month was due in part for the way she’d filled a few of her student’s fridges this holiday season.

Stuff like that didn’t stay secret in Eagle Creek.

Again, I hoped the reindeer understood who they were dealing with.

The woman might give off warm, homey vibes ninety-nine per cent of the time, but that other one per cent?

Watch out. You didn’t mess with Tamara, because once she decided something or her patience was up, the fuse was lit, and there was no putting it out.

Case in point, her giving my brother what-for in the grocery store during their breakup.

When I’d heard the story, I’d felt embarrassed for Tamara, knowing she’d hate the rumours about her.

But I’d also felt a lot of admiration and pride that she’d stood up for herself, and finally spoken to Kade in a way he couldn’t ignore.

Honestly, I hadn’t been able to stop grinning for a week.

She deserved better than my brother and had let him and others know it. She might be kind, and she might sometimes come across as a pushover, but she wasn’t.

Not to say my kid brother was a bad guy, but the two of them had never been the right match.

He’d helped her open up and be less timid in high school, and she’d helped him cool his jets and get in touch with his calmer side.

But Kade needed someone who would push back—constantly.

And that wasn’t Tamara’s style. She was kind and gentle, and needed more space than a man like Kade would ever provide.

Not that I believed myself to be the man for her.

She needed someone she liked and respected, and somewhere along the line, I’d obviously failed her.

That was a crappy feeling. Failing a woman like Tamara who brought only good to the world.

Right now, despite her take-charge attitude, I’d bet she wanted to go curl up under some blankets with a cup of hot chocolate by her twinkling Christmas tree and lose herself in her next book club story.

I also knew she’d never do that because she was too much like me. She felt responsible to see this through, no matter how weird it was, because the idea of not helping fix Christmas was too huge of a weight.

“All right,” she announced, her voice carrying through the barn. She had her hands on her hips and was glowering at the reindeer, who were shifting nervously. I gently closed the door, curious what she’d command us to do.

“How are we getting Rudolph to the North Pole? I need an answer now. One that’s helpful and actionable.”

There was no reply from the herd. Even Dolly stepped further back in her stall, as though afraid to be in Tamara’s line of sight.

These were her boundaries, so firm you could ricochet off them.

“ Now , boys.” She waited a beat. “Either you come up with a plan, or I figure out a way to contact Santa or Mrs. Claus. And might I remind you that I have a fairy godmother?”

A fairy godmother? I found myself taking in the barn, on the lookout for a small woman with wings. I didn’t see anyone who fit a fairy godmother description.

“So, it’s your choice as to how I proceed,” she continued. “Because we’re not sitting around any longer.”

“Mrs. C. would skin us all,” one of the reindeer said.

“Do you think she’d even come?” another asked. “She wants Christmas to fall apart.”

“Who? Mrs. Claus?” I asked, sharing a look with Tamara. That didn’t seem right.

The reindeer had formed a circle in the middle of the barn, centred around Rudolph, words flowing over each other.

“—handle this the right way?—”

“She’s still mad about the summer?—”

“Santa needs to?—”

“She’s got to make her?—”

“Do we have enough to do this?—?”

“No, and we’ll have to come back again…”

“What choice do we have?”

“We’re going to regret this.”

“I already do.”

“Okay?” Rudolph asked the group.

“Okay,” they replied in unison.

Then, suddenly, they fell quiet.

Tamara and I shared looks, followed by a shrug. I had no idea what they’d been discussing, and it didn’t appear that she did, either. I found myself moving to her side.

The remaining seven healthy reindeer, without so much as a look at us, marched toward the barn door. I hustled ahead, opening it for them.

One passed me with shiny Christmas ball ornaments hanging from his antlers and, unable to help myself, I reached out and touched a red one.

The reindeer turned to me. “ Dude . Hands to yourself.”

“Sorry,” I said quickly, tucking my offending hand behind my back while the rest of the herd clambered outside.

They all nosed into the small pouch Comet had been carrying in a holster like it was some sort of preflight ritual.

I realized they were eating. Before I could figure out what was happening, they lifted up into the sky.

The reindeer didn’t jump or fly straight upward like I’d expected, though. It was like a hearty, twisting cross breeze had aligned with their flight path. Two of them had even knocked antlers before straightening out again. Was that normal, or were they still tipsy?

The trunk of Tamara’s car popped open, and a short man in a green vest and brown pants jumped into the sky after the reindeer. One of them tried to kick at him, but he swirled around in the air behind it, taking flight as well.

It was the elf. What a night!

I watched them until they were out of sight, which didn’t take long given the darkness and falling snow, then closed the door.

I turned from the door, feeling a mutual responsibility for the herd as though Tamara and I had raised them, and were now setting them free, hoping they’d survive. It was an odd sensation, and I shook it off before telling her the deer had set off.

Tamara turned to Rudolph, the tension that had been vibrating through her frame slipping away. “Come on then, let’s get you settled and ice that hip.” She guided the reindeer back into his earlier stall.

She talked softly to the animal, stroking his forehead. Then she straightened and joined me outside the stall. She went to a dusty old cupboard on one of the outer walls, opening it. She grabbed several big black garbage bags from a box and handed me one. “We can fill these with snow for his hip.”

“Are they going to the North Pole?” I asked, referring to the departed deer. I assumed that was where they were going, but I was new enough to this whole talking-reindeer thing that I might have missed something.

Tamara nodded. “I believe they’re going to get Santa and his sleigh.”

“Well done on bossing them into action.”

She snorted, her eyes smiling at me as we removed our mitts to open the big bags, so they’d be ready to fill once we went back into the wind and snow.

“You know you don’t have to stay. I mean, there’s probably not much else we can do for Rudolph other than ice his hip with the bags of snow.” She looked shy, tucking a lock of hair behind an ear.

“And miss out on possibly seeing Santa? Not a chance.” I shot her a quick wink, and her cheeks, pink from the cold, turned pinker.

The reindeer didn’t seem to be dangerous, but I still felt a protectiveness in case Tamara got herself in too deep tonight with her love for all living creatures, and needed help.

“I just don’t want you to feel obligated or responsible, because you think of me as family.”

“All the more reason to stick around.”

She nodded slowly, chewing on her bottom lip again.

“So, you still believe in Christmas?” Tamara asked cautiously, like she was aware of the strangeness of asking an adult man her question.

“I definitely do now.”

We shared a burst of laughter.

“I should have guessed,” she said. “Every December you provide complimentary care to several in-need patients each day.”

“You inspired me to do that.”

“I did?” She looked surprised.

“Yeah, and I wish I could do more.” Sometimes that was all the veterinarian care some of the animals got.

“But you believe.” There was wonder in her expression, so fresh and bright I wanted to lean in and kiss her again.

“I believe in that elf you had stuffed in your trunk.” I raised an eyebrow in her direction.

She gasped, eyes widened. She quickly dropped her gaze to the bag in her hands. “He likes it in there. And, anyway, he let himself out. ”

“Who else are you hiding from me?”

“Nobody.”

“Really?”

“I swear.”

I heard a giggle. I stopped rustling the bag I was opening and listened. I leaned into the stall where Rudolph was giggling to himself. Having never heard an animal do that, I smiled.

“What’s so funny?” Tamara asked him. “Are you still drunk?”

“Blitzen sure is.”

Tamara and I both automatically looked up toward the sky, even though we couldn’t see it or Blitzen through the barn’s roof.

“They wouldn’t fly if they were too tipsy, would they?” she asked carefully, and Rudolph laughed. She groaned, placing her hands against her cheeks. “What have I encouraged them to do?”

“I guess we wait and see.” I crouched and took Rudolph’s pulse. “As for this guy, he’s probably reacting to the painkillers.”

The reindeer’s eyes were giant, dark saucers.

“He’s high?” she asked, flopping onto an overturned metal feed bucket, using it as a seat. She then moved to kneel in the straw, gently stroking Rudolph’s front flank, her voice wobbly. “I’m messing up everything tonight.”

“It’ll wear off.” I took out my stethoscope and listened. “I’m sure he’s fine.”

“He’s not having a reaction or something, is he?”

“No, no. He’s okay.” I leaned back on my heels, disentangling my hand from Rudolph, who’d decided to lick it. “I’ve seen animals get a little loopy, but they weren’t able to giggle. At least not in a way that I understood.”

I caught Tamara’s eye, sharing a look. A smile played at the edges of her mouth.

Usually, if we were ever in cahoots, it was over ribbing my brother, which had been fun.

This, though? It was way better, and I realized just how much I’d missed it.

And her. I found my gaze dropping to her lips, aware that our age gap was no longer a wall to keep propped between us, to stop me from admiring her womanliness.

As Rudolph continued to giggle, I couldn’t help but smile. “He’s pretty cute.”

Her eyes crinkled with joy, and she gave me a sweet, teasing smile. “Are you getting soft on him?”

“I want to keep him,” I confessed, knowing she’d understand.

“But you can’t!” Rudolph giggled again.

The three of us laughed as the spirit of the season wrapped inside me, along with the gratitude that I was the one Tamara had called.

I wasn’t sure if she’d forgiven me for the unwanted attention I received around town as a bachelor, though. Everyone assumed I was sending women the message that I wanted them, then dropped them as soon as they expressed interest.

What was I supposed to do? They were kind, and I was kind, and then suddenly I was a big jerk for listening and caring, but not wanting to date them.

Honestly, until tonight, I’d figured that in an emergency, there was a fifty-fifty chance that Tamara would call my back-up veterinarian directly instead of me on my clinic’s after-hours line.

Turned out I was fifty percent wrong.