Page 3 of Run, Run Rudolph (Fairy Godmothers and Other Fiascos #2)

I didn’t need to follow my best friend Char into massive fairy godmother debt with some ill-thought-out wishes.

Even several months later, I could still barely believe that fairy godmothers were real—and that they charged exorbitant amounts when they granted wishes.

It made me very leery of using the W word— wish .

As for reading texts while driving, I was simply envious of vehicles where a person’s phone and car stereo spoke to each other, and thus the driver.

Anyway, it was likely only Samantha texting the group, which meant it could wait.

She’d been fighting with her very lovely boyfriend Malachi for weeks, and seeing that they lived together, she needed a friend to calm her down every so often so she didn’t break up with him.

Which lately, seemed to be a couple of times a day.

But I knew someone else would talk her off the ledge in our group chat.

It used to be called GAL PAL—Giggle and Laughter, Pouring our hearts and Listening.

Now, it had been renamed to Save S&M. I didn’t like the new name—it made me think of sadomasochism, and not saving Samantha and Malachi.

I couldn’t wait until her relationship was on solid ground again so I could change the name back.

Ignoring my phone’s bings and boops, along with the phantom eyes in the ditch, I leaned back, relaxing my grip on the steering wheel. I was almost home.

I stretched to twist the radio dial, cranking up Travis Tritt as he finished singing All I Want for Christmas Dear is You . Maybe one little wish to Estelle, the fairy godmother, wouldn’t hurt…

How much would it cost to wish for love?

When I glanced back at the road from the radio, it was like someone had emptied a bag of bounding reindeer in front of me.

Wait. Reindeer? We weren’t that far north, despite what some tourists believed. We only had mule and white-tailed deer in the foothills. And the occasional moose or elk.

My thoughts were quick as I jammed on the brakes.

My convertible Sebring slid one way, then the other.

I furiously corrected and braked, squealing as the herd jumped around on either side of my car.

Antlers created finger-like shadows in my headlight’s beams. In front of me.

Behind me. Surrounding the car were furry hooves and wide, dark, terrified eyes.

There was a thud as a hoof hit the door on the passenger side. A white-and-brown belly blocked my view as a reindeer leapt over the hood. How many were there? It felt like they’d never stop jumping and landing.

A small red light appeared before me. I made a hard left, spinning as I jammed the brakes, afraid I was about to rear end someone I couldn’t see due to the falling snow and flying deer.

I could have sworn the deer were intermittently flying.

But if they were, they wouldn’t be on the road, would they?

There was another flicker of red as my car finished its spin. I was still moving forward. A deer jumped in the same direction I was heading, and my bumper made contact with a dull thump.

Then the reindeer were gone. There was nothing but darkness and empty road as my car finally slid to a halt, sideways across the snowy country road, sending tunnels of light into the ditch’s grove of bare trees.

It had only been a few seconds of twisting my way through the herd, but it had felt like minutes.

I unclenched my hands from the steering wheel and flicked on my emergency flashers, grateful I hadn’t hit the steep, snow-filled ditch.

I left the car running, as per my mom’s advice about collisions and the ignition kill switch that wouldn’t allow you to restart a vehicle post-accident.

I hopped out to check the damage, ensuring my thick winter coat was zipped up to my chin.

In the glow of Benjamin’s—my car’s—headlights, I could see my bumper had lost the quick battle. It hung crookedly, the blue plastic sporting a jagged hole bigger than a hoof, and there were bits of brown fur stuck around it.

Oh, no.

I scanned the dark road behind my car. Something red was flashing on the ground, almost in time with my car’s flashers.

Had one of the deer kicked out a taillight?

I walked toward it, my car highlighting the road with a rosy red glow every half second.

My lost taillight was by a deer who was lying on its side. Weird that the light was still working.

I approached slowly, and tears wet my eyes as guilt took over. The poor thing! The deer had its back to me, ribcage heaving. What if it was severely injured, and I had to call someone to put it down?

Stupid Travis Tritt and the stupid radio. Why hadn’t I been watching the road?

I pulled out my phone to use its flashlight to help me see better as I approached, talking softly so as not to startle the animal, like Haden had once taught me when I was a teen.

The deer was smaller than I’d expected, and as I took it in, I ruled out the possibility that it might be a mule deer.

It wasn’t a white tail, either. It seriously looked like a woodland caribou—AKA reindeer—like they kept at the Calgary Zoo.

Had one gotten out and travelled all this way undetected?

As I circled the beast, I located the blinking red light. It wasn’t a lost taillight. Not at all.

The blinking red light was on the end of the reindeer’s nose.

The magical world was back. Back in my life, where it didn’t belong. Where I didn’t want it.

With a shaky voice, I commanded my phone to call Char as I ran back to the warmth of my car.

If anybody would know what to do, as well as not to immediately jump to the conclusion that I was crazy, it was my best friend since ninth grade.

The day we’d met, she’d saved me from a very scary spider, nonchalantly scooping it into her hands—her bare hands—and saving me. We’d been best friends ever since.

And right now, I needed her spider-scooping hands and level head.

We’d dealt with some rather unreal things last summer, thanks to her fairy godmother, but nothing quite like this. There’d never been magic in Eagle Ridge. This small town had always been perfectly, safely boring.

I bit my bottom lip and dropped into the driver’s seat as Char picked up, closing the door behind me to keep the heat inside the cab.

“It’s pina colada time!” cooed my friend, obviously enjoying the open bar at the all-inclusive Mexican resort she and her boyfriend James had gone to for Christmas.

His family had basically adopted Char, and his parents had overlapped their own trip so the four of them could spend a few days together over the holiday.

She lowered her voice, suddenly serious.

“I think she’s going to break up with him. ”

Samantha. She must be reading the GAL PAL texts.

“Are you drunk?” I asked, my voice wavering.

“Yes. And giving Samantha the best romantic advice ever, right James?”

My phone binged with another text to the group chat. I skimmed Char’s message and sighed. That was not good advice for our commitment-phobic friend. Not even close.

In the background, I heard a deep male voice say through the phone, “Merry Christmas, Tamara!”

“Merry Christmas, James. And family.”

“He can’t hear you, and his parents are still at supper. You’re not on speaker.”

“Char, I need you. And I need you completely focused because I hit something with Benjamin!”

Benjamin, my car, had bumped a lot of things in his time, but never any wildlife. Not even gophers, though everybody else in town hit them. Especially in the summer, when they swarmed the roads like little devils.

But shh . Don’t tell that to my cute gopher buddy, Felipe.

He’d moved into the top floor of the old boarding house the five of us gals had been renting in Calgary, and we’d promptly adopted him.

When we’d all gone our separate ways last summer, I’d brought Felipe with me, figuring the country air would do him good.

But apparently he was an indoor creature now, with absolutely no desire to go back outdoors.

He was an odd little animal. He was even friends with my cat.

Back to my current situation, and the deer sprawled on the road.

There was a short pause on the other end of the line, then a giggle.

“I’m serious, Char.”

There must’ve been something in my tone because her amusement vanished, and she replied very soberly, “Start at the beginning.”

“I hit Rudolph. He’s on the road.”

“How do you know it’s him?” Char asked, the music in the background of the call fading.

My guess was she was finding somewhere more private, so she could be the bestie I always counted on.

Here for me. Always. Even though she was in Mexico toasting her ta-tas in the sun while I was in Canada, freezing mine.

Then again, she could be slipping somewhere private because Estelle had made it clear we weren’t to discuss the magical world with non-believers. Which happened to be two of our close friends—Samantha and Gabby.

Likely, James didn’t know about Estelle, or the magical world. And hitting Rudolph? That was right up there with discussing fairy godmothers.

I found it funny that our interactions with fairy godmothers and ogres hadn’t been the thing to send Char to therapy.

It had been her strong fear of love and stability.

And her desire not to mess it all up once she’d finally managed to snag it.

But look at her now. Happy, and in a healthy relationship.

What I wouldn’t give for something like that.

Well, I wouldn’t give money to Char’s fairy godmother Estelle to make it happen.

“How do you know it’s him ?” Char repeated.

“His nose blinks red.”

She swore under her breath. “It’s almost Christmas, Tam-Tam.”

Her accusatory tone magnified my guilt. “I know.”

“What was he doing on the road? It’s too early to be out! Christmas Eve isn’t until tomorrow. Are you sure it’s him?”