Chapter 3 Creed
CREED
Christmas. Bah humbug. And why is it all these small towns think they need to go all out with their traditions?
I thought my hometown of Deadwood was bad, but Spring Creek might be worse.
They pull the kids into it from a young age, turning the business fair into a big Christmas event the whole community seems to love.
I guess the kids start with a big group project in kindergarten.
By first grade, they are making their own little trinkets.
And it continues all the way through fifth grade.
And the decorations! I couldn’t believe the sidewalk candy canes.
And the principal wouldn’t let me out of the school without voting for my favorite tree.
I could care less. My boys will be lucky if I can even find the one tote full of Christmas things I know I packed up when we moved.
It does still have the stockings my mom sewed for each of us, so I guess it’s worth pulling out.
My boys joined forces by taking their unused toy cars, painting them, and selling them for three dollars each.
Honestly, I was thrilled to get so many of the toys out of the house.
But the paint stains remain all over my kitchen table.
Thankfully, it was just a cheap marketplace find from the move, but I had hoped to keep it in better shape. Next time I need to lay down newspaper.
And then Emmie. I’ve sworn off women after my recent divorce, but there was something about her. Even though I was all gruff and cranky, her bubbly charm got to me. Although I’m not quite sure what to make of an elementary boy selling bath salts. Seems a bit odd.
Oh well. All I have to do is survive tonight’s Christmas concert, and then I think my Christmas obligations are done at the school.
Unless the boys have to bring in treats or gifts for a party.
Crap. The lists never end. I’m no good at this stuff.
I have no idea how I’m holding it together on my own.
A metallic clang echoes throughout the garage as a wrench slips from my oil-slicked fingers and clatters against the concrete floor.
“Butterfingers strikes again!” Chuck roars with laughter, sitting over in one of the beat-up recliners at the side of the shop. “Isn’t it about time to call it a day and go pick up those kids of yours?”
Shit.
“Yea, yea.” I bend over to pick up the damn tool. “You coming to the kids’ Christmas concert tonight?”
“Probably. Seems there are two little boys who might give me a grin if they see me there.”
“Yea. They might.”
And with that, I head out from the shop.
Chuck knew when he hired me that I’m a single dad of two.
He promised they would be flexible with me if I worked as hard as my references said I do.
I’ve been known to drag the boys down some evenings and weekends to get projects done, and when they go visit their mom once a month, I’m at work.
The fresh start I was seeking by moving to Spring Creek has been great, but it’s also been a lot.
I don’t need to lose this job and have to start over again.
As I pull into the school to pick the boys up from the after-school basketball program, I take a minute in the truck.
This might be the only breather I get for the rest of the day.
It’s already 5:07 and we have to be back to the school by 6:15 for the boys to get into their spots for the 6:30 concert.
Tap. Tap. Tap. I look up to see Emmie smiling and waving at me from outside the truck. So much for my quiet moment. I unclip my seat belt and step out of my truck.
“Hey there, stranger. Ready for tonight?”
“I guess,” I mumble as I start walking toward the building.
“Well, I normally sit on the north side of the gym if you want to join me.”
I grunt, although my dick stirring in my pants catches me a bit off guard.