Page 19 of Santa of the Creek

“I’m sorry, did I wake you?” Gloria coos in my ear.

“Whatever you want, Gloria, the answer is no.” I don’t bother to open my eyes. She’ll be gone soon.

“You don’t mean that.”

“I really do mean that.”

“But, Dean?—”

“But, Dean nothing. The answer is still no. I told you after the incident with Barky that you couldn’t call me again.”

“That was one time,” she protests.

“Did your nose just get bigger?”

One time out of many, and most of the time I’ve reluctantly gotten entangled in her plans, but not this time.

“Echo needs you.”

I flop onto my back. That’s just mean. Of all the things she could say to me…

“Echo is at home with a sprained ankle. Why does he need me?”

“Santa is due at the?—”

“Let me stop you right there. You asked Echo to do one afternoon at the assisted living facility. One. Nothing else.”

“I hadn’t gotten around to asking him yet.”

“So this isn’t about Echo.”

She huffs in my ear. “Santa makes several appearances during December. Randy thought Echo wouldn’t mind on his days off.”

I sigh. “Gloria, you’ve got to stop doing this to people. Just ask them outright. Quit with this blackmail routine.”

“So—”

“The answer is still no. I’m going back to sleep. Bye, Gloria.” I disconnect the call on her protest. Then turn off the phone, because I know her. She’ll call again. And again.

I feel bad. I do. But she knows me by now. I say yes to everything, but not to being Santa. I’ve never gotten involved in Christmas activities. Why couldn’t the sheriff be Santa or Arlo or Cam? Why me?

I snuggle under my sheets and close my eyes. I have nowhere to be this morning. It doesn’t take long to drift off to sleep.

Still dressed in my T-shirt and pajama bottoms, I drink my first coffee around noon. By now I’m severely decaffeinated and drink the pot in one go. I contemplate the pot. More coffee or bed? It’s 50/50, but bed is winning when there’s a thump on the door.The knock surprises me. I don’t get many visitors, except family. By choice I might add. I like my privacy and I’m just not good at making friends.

I shuffle to the door and open it a fraction. It’s lunchtime, and I am still in my sleep clothes. I open it wider when I see mybrother standing there, the familiar furrow between his eyes as he stares at his phone.

“Danny, what are you doing here?”

“I was sent here.”

I step back to let him in. “What does JoBeth want now?”

I love Danny’s wife with all my heart, but she’s another one always involving me in her schemes.

The lines deepen. “Not JoBeth, not this time.”

I narrow my eyes. “Gloria?”