Page 22 of Run, Run Rudolph (Fairy Godmothers and Other Fiascos #2)

~ Tamara ~

W atching Haden tuck the bags of snow around Rudolph, and then cover him with a blanket while talking to him made me wonder what he’d be like as a dad.

Obviously he was caring, and with a go-with-the-flow, unflappable attitude.

Did I already mention caring? A man who could be vulnerable enough to show he cared, not worrying if somebody called him less of a man for having a tender, nurturing side.

It warmed my heart in a way that I couldn’t explain.

I forced myself to leave, so I didn’t throw myself on the poor man once again.

I stood outside the stall, wondering what I could do next to help Rudolph.

I was dying to go back to the house and warm up.

But I worried that if I suggested we move locations, Haden might take it as a cue to go home or on to his next emergency.

When I’d first called him, I’d wanted him to dart in and out of here as fast as politely possible.

Now, however, I was enjoying being around him just like I had all those years ago—before Kade had lied to me.

Still, I needed to remind myself that Haden was here tonight out of duty and responsibility.

He still thought of me as family and, for him, family came first. Even in college, when most guys were out partying, he went on family trips.

That was how committed he was. And I was sure it would be a long time before he let me fade from his familial sense of duty.

That was all this was. It wasn’t about me as an eligible and charming sweet woman, and I’d be wise to remember that.

Besides, he’d choose a woman who was closer to his age, and not eight years his junior. He’d also smartly choose a woman who didn’t cause him to fist his hands whenever she tried to gently and kindly stand up for herself and failed.

The man, despite his shuttered eyes, should never play poker, because his body language made it clear what he thought of me. He was probably fisting his hands to prevent himself from jumping in and fixing me.

Be more assertive. Be louder. Nobody’s going to know what you want unless you speak up for what you want . I’d heard countless people dole out that advice, and I bet Haden agreed, but was simply too polite to add to it.

I leaned into Rudolph’s stall. “How long do you think they’ll take to get to the North Pole and back?” I pushed up my coat sleeve to check my watch. It was almost ten. The herd had been gone about twenty minutes.

“I don’t understand time,” Rudolph said.

“I know, buddy. Sorry.”

Haden shook his head when I looked at him. He stretched his neck from side to side, letting out an exhausted exhale. He’d probably been working since six in the morning, if not earlier. And here I’d roped him into another animal crisis at the end of a long day.

“You sit for a bit,” I said, gesturing to the bucket-stool outside the stall. “I’ve got to put the roof up on my car.” Earlier, I’d been too busy getting Rudolph back into the barn, and the herd off to the North Pole to take care of it.

“I’ll help,” Haden said, ignoring the offered seat.

“No. Be a good vet, and sit with Rudolph. Make sure he doesn’t get cold.”

Haden nodded and yawned, moving the bucket into the stall and taking a seat.

I watched him for a second as he pulled out his phone.

He had a queue of unanswered text messages.

I could see him skimming them, then using some sort of texting shortcut that suddenly produced a long message which he’d then send.

I caught the odd word from the message. Symptoms to watch for in the pet, and the clinic’s emergency number if things got worse.

But, otherwise, it was call in the morning and make an appointment.

I was charmed by his efficiency, and how he instituted boundaries between his private after-hours time, and the plethora of so-called emergencies that plagued him. But I also felt bad for sucking up his night with my own weird animal emergency. The poor man never got a break by the looks of it.

And there didn’t seem to be anything more that he could do for Rudolph. “You can head home now if you want,” I offered again. I was enjoying his company, but I didn’t kid myself that this was the start of something.

“It’s fine,” he mumbled, continuing to work through his messages.

Still half numb from my earlier drive, I headed back into the cold night where it was snowing like crazy again.

A swirl of blinding snow spun and drove downward in a gust, and I worried about the reindeer.

The visibility was horrible. And without Rudolph and his ‘nose so bright,’ I wasn’t sure how they’d fare.

Could they get lost? Blown completely off course and stuck somewhere foreign, and too exhausted to reach the pole?

The trunk of my car was open, and I peeked inside, not spying the elf. Where had he gone? I checked around the vehicle for footprints. None. Was he okay? Had he beamed his way back to the North Pole? Wherever he was, I supposed I no longer needed to worry about him freezing to death because of me.

I quickly put the roof up, ignoring the drifts of snow on the car’s seats.

A chill rocketed down the collar of my parka, and I jogged to the two-bedroom farmhouse, located only about thirty feet from the barn, shoulders bunched up to my ears.

Inside, I fed my pet gopher Felipe some apple slices when he sat up on his hind legs and chirped at me.

Then I brewed two cups of coffee, figuring it would be a while before Haden and I got a chance to call it a night. Bundling up again in my big boots, parka, scarf, mitts and toque, I opened the door, startled when Boots went tearing past me and out into the freezing night.

“Boots!” I called, but he was already gone. Knowing he could seek refuge in the barn, thanks to the kitty door I’d made, I let him be, even though I worried about him being out in this weather.

Alone, I walked under the row of bare crabapple trees lining the walkway to the barn, heading back with a thermos and two cups. Halfway there, and somewhere above me, I heard a deep male voice shout, “Turn, turn, turn!”

It was followed by a cracking that sounded like a tree branch breaking and I instinctively crouched, eyes to the sky. Through the dampening sound of the falling snow, there was the faint ringing of sleigh bells.

Santa!

The reindeer were back already, and had brought Santa to fix everything!

There was a flicker of white light, some sort of headlight I guessed, and then the shadowy outline of reindeer pulling a sleigh.

I gasped at the brief sight, feeling like a kid as joy filled my heart. Santa was real. All of it was real.

More commands, each one sounding more frantic.

Without Rudolph and his nose, Santa must be having trouble landing his sleigh despite the headlight.

Almost dropping the thermos, I jogged to my car, flicking on the headlights.

They cast a glow across the driveway—a beautiful landing strip.

Then I ran to the barn, flipping on the rest of its outdoor lights, including an extra floodlight.

Next, I grabbed the huge emergency kit flashlight from my trunk and I aimed it at the sky.

Immediately, I heard a crash. I ditched the thermos and cups in the snow and ran blindly toward the noise, aiming my light.

Snow crunched under my feet, and as I stepped off the driveway, my boots sunk into the deep, unpacked snow, pitching me forward.

I got back to my feet and slowly waded through the endless white, punching holes in the drifts with my big Sorels, the cold snow tumbling over the tops of the tall boots and freezing my ankles.

The light from the barn had already been swallowed by the falling snow, darkness surrounding me other than the beam from my flashlight. In a storm like this, it would be easy to go too far, get turned around and freeze to death a few dozen feet from safety.

I hesitated, considering turning back. Then I heard muttering and bells ahead, and to the left. I did my best to continue toward them, and just when I was starting to panic again, my light caught something. The sleigh?

I waded through the knee-deep snow, and a few seconds later, I was running a hand down the side of a majestic wooden red sleigh with gold detailing.

A man in red and white was sitting on the plush bench seat, rubbing his forehead.

In front of him, his reindeer were pawing at the ground, looking back at me. Everyone was standing, seemingly okay.

“Hey, guys,” I called to them, wondering what to do. “You made really good time. You were only gone for about half an hour.”

Where was Santa’s boisterous ‘Ho, ho, ho?’

I came up to the sleigh’s door and shone my light on Santa, excitement swelling like I might burst with giddiness. I was about to introduce myself when I realized the sleigh wasn’t level. The front end was jacked up and splintered pieces poked jaggedly into the air.

Santa had hit a tree.

No. Not hit. Slammed .

Santa was not all right.

Unable to get the dazed man to reply to my hellos, I tried opening the sleigh’s side door, but couldn’t find a handle.

“It opens from the inside,” Prancer said. He was one of the reindeer closest to the sleigh.

“Thanks.”

“Are you okay, Santa?” I repeated. The sleigh was too high. I couldn’t reach over the side to find the inside handle with my mittened hands.

Santa muttered something nonsensical.

Comet turned from his spot near the front of the herd. “He might’ve hit the tree when we stopped. Please check on him.”

“I’m trying.”

“Hurry up. Climb over the side,” Dasher added impatiently as I tried to figure out how to get my leg high enough to hoist myself over the sleigh’s side, which was at collarbone height.

I did the odd workout, mostly out of guilt after watching a news story about obesity or preventable illnesses related to physical inactivity, but I knew without trying that I wasn’t strong enough to do a full body chin-up lift thing over the side of the sleigh.