Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Marcie
I didn’t slip the paper from my hand until we were seated in our car and on the way home.
I fiddled with it, not sure what to expect.
Since the first “piece,” there had been things my Santa Daddy had requested, but all of those had been printed on a sheet of paper like any old regular list. The only difference was that after completion, I’d use a red pen to make a checkmark in the box that preceded each one.
Daddy would then check the list himself and add a second check mark to show the chore as completed.
It was his way of reminding me that Santa Daddy was “checking it twice”.
The slip of paper I’d discovered beneath my ice-cream dish was only the second that had come as a separate “piece”.
My pulse was racing as I wondered what I’d find when I unfolded the slip.
Would it be something as mundane and boring as having to untangle strings of Christmas lights that I’d just tossed into a box last year without winding them around their plastic frames?
Believe me, after spending three whole hours doing that, I knew I’d never just bunch them up again.
I rather doubted he’d take the time to write out a request to go through my clothing and toys to donate what no longer fit or things I thought another person might enjoy. Especially since I’d already started that and had two boxes ready to be taken to the local shelter.
He made it even more random when he didn’t assign me a designated chore every day, which would have made it easier to track.
When I’d asked Daddy what was next, he’d either show me the newest item on the paper list or just give me a Cheshire cat grin that made goosebumps pop out on my body.
He was a huge fan of anticipation and an expert at keeping me on edge.
I was probably getting all worked up over nothing.
Face it, you want a poem.
I didn’t bother to try to convince my inner self that wasn’t true.
The fact that my nipples were already tightening when I wasn’t the least bit chilled, was proof enough that she was right.
A furtive glance to the side showed me that while his eyes were on the road as he drove, Santa Daddy was well aware of my quandary.
“You’re enjoying this aren’t you?”
“Every moment,” he confirmed with a chuckle. “I’ve never kept it a secret that it brings me great pleasure watching you squirm.”
I huffed but bit the inside of my lip to keep from smiling. “You know that sounds a bit weird, right?”
“Hmmmm. Let me check my meter”—he paused for a count of three and then shook his head—“nope, it didn’t shift a single millimeter.”
I was glad his eyes were ahead so that I could roll mine. His so-called “care meter” was something he’d used to teach me that as long as the two of us were okay with whatever we chose to explore, he didn’t “care” what anyone else might think and neither should I.
“How about yours? Feeling any seismic shifts?”
“No,” I admitted. “But if I had a heart-attack warning system, the needle on that meter would be sweeping about like crazy.”
My comment had his eyes sliding to me. “The game isn’t meant to stress you out, babygirl.”
“I know! And it doesn’t, but not knowing what’s going to happen is making me crazy. In fact, I’m pretty sure I saw a gray hair when I was brushing my hair tonight.”
He chuckled. “What’s with you and gray hair? While I love the color of your hair now, I promise, I will still adore it if it’s gray or even if it’s all gone and you’re as bald as a billiard ball.”
I huffed again, but knew he spoke the truth. This man was honestly too good to be true. When he loved, he loved unconditionally and with his whole heart. He’d go into battle and fight to the death to defend those he cared for. He was a saint.
And me?
Well, I was nowhere near sainthood. I was that squirmy Little going nuts trying to figure out his devious and deliciously naughty plans.
“Besides, if you want to stop stressing, all you have to do is unfold the paper and read the piece.”
“What a great idea! I wonder why I didn’t think of that?” I gushed.
“Careful, little girl. The game isn’t meant to stress, but it also isn’t permission to be rude.”
“Sorry,” I muttered, acknowledging that the gushing had sounded a bit more sarcastic than complimentary. “Do you want me to read it now, Santa Daddy?”
“That’s up to you, babygirl. Now or when we get home, the results will be the same.”
“Confident much?” I snarked and quickly added, “kidding!”
“Kid away, Santa Daddy is not only good at making lists, he is also very good at keeping count.” He shot me another look and then flipped on the signal before turning a corner.
I was about to ask what he was counting, but I wasn’t stupid.
I looked down at the paper slip and realized I’d been twisting it until it was no longer the smoothly folded note it had been.
Tracing across it with my fingertip, I tried to erase the creases I’d created.
Why didn’t I just open it and read the words already?
Because you love anticipation as much as your Daddy but just don’t want to admit it.
Taking a deep breath, I made myself stop fidgeting and simply live in the moment.
Anticipation aside, I also wanted to be alone in case the words didn’t live up to those of the first slip.
I’d made such a big deal about his poem that if he’d simply penned something like, “get naked and spread them,” while I’d still be tingling as much as if he’d growled them at me in the deep voice I so loved, I might not be able to hide a little disappointment in not having the challenge of deciphering this note as I had the first.
“Marcie?”
“Hmmm?”
“Babygirl, we’re home.”
My head jerked up to see he was no longer behind the wheel. A chuckle drew my attention to my right side where I saw him leaning into the car. “When? How?”
His chuckle turned into laughter as he unfastened my seat belt.
“This feels a bit like déjà vu,” he teased.
“When, about a minute ago. How, in a car. As for the unspoken questions, I believe you’ll find the answers in there.
” He reached down to gently tap the slip I was still holding.
“Well, that is if you’re going to get out of the car.
Though I suppose it’s possible to complete the task outside, but—”
“Not necessary,” I said, shoving against his chest. “I’d already be inside and reading if some big ol’ Santa wasn’t blocking the door.”
“I do so love to watch those numbers climb.” He dropped a kiss on top of my head before backing up. Sweeping his hand, he bowed low. “After you.”
“Thank you, kind Sir, but please, feel free to go ahead,” I said, hoping that politeness might erase whatever the number his count had reached.
His grin told me he wasn’t buying it. I climbed out of the car and then quickly turned my butt away from him and scooted toward the door leading inside.
Laughter followed me as I punched in the code and ducked through the door into the kitchen.
I’d deal with that count later. Right now, I had a piece of the list to read.
I shucked out of my coat as I walked through the living room, risking another tick of that number by simply draping it over a chair instead of hanging it up in the closet.
I’d waited long enough and couldn’t wait a single moment longer.
Unfolding the paper as I walked, I made it to the bedroom and flipped on the light. Drawing a deep breath, I released it slowly and only then undid the final fold.
Tonight we look back—remembering where we’ve been,
For successes we have now are because of then.
To honor the memory of the steps that brought us to today,
I ask you to think back on when we became more than our play.
Without the past, we’d not cherish the now,
So, little elf, all you must do is think of the how.
Will your memory match mine or will it be something new?
We won’t solve the puzzle until I come to join you.
I trust you to follow that voice from deep down within,
And when Santa calls, know it will be time to begin.
I’d gotten my poem was my first thought, my second was that my Daddy hadn’t lost a bit of his poetic ability, but it was the third that truly mattered. Actually, it was the fourth stanza that had me catching my breath.
I ask you to think back on when we became more than our play.
It wasn’t that I was going to panic because that was an awful lot to ask for since we’d been dating for years, and had lived together for the last two.
But, could I remember every detail so as not to disappoint a man I had no doubt remembered every moment?
I clasped the note to my chest and closed my eyes.
“Just listen,” I whispered. Not to the thoughts of what I might be forgetting that were bouncing around in my head, but to that voice I normally tried to ignore. I needed her now and, once again, she seemed to know me better than myself.
You remember.
Two words, each one simple, and yet they were exactly the ones I needed to hear.
“Thank you.” I smiled and opened my eyes.
Tonight’s piece didn’t give me step-by-step instructions on what to do or even how to prepare, but that wasn’t going to stop me.
I grabbed Lord Pigsley off my pillow then turned and ran out the door and down the hall, darting into a room that basically held my “Little” life.
“You can visit with your royal subjects, milord.” I gave the stuffy a kiss on top of his head before setting him down among other stuffies I loved.
Now that I was free to enjoy Big-girl games without an audience of but one, I began to work on solving the poem.
I only had a brief moment of panic when I couldn’t find the first item on my mental list, then turned and saw the boxes I’d just sealed.
A few snips of the scissors cut through the tape, and I flipped back the flaps.
Digging through it, I found what I needed near the bottom and pulled it free.
“Yay!” I shouted, then slapped my hand over my mouth.
I didn’t want to call attention to what I was doing.
Not before I was ready. Listening intently, I gave it a beat of five before taking another breath.
I gathered a few more items, including some I had to dig through the drawers in the attached bathroom for, and then I poked my head out the door and looked both ways.
Finding the hallway empty, I dashed back to the bedroom.
I paused in the doorway and scanned the room with a critical eye. Would he expect me to move furniture around and switch out lamps or books that hadn’t been here that night?
Sure, oh, and while you’re at it, why not call up the weather department and ask if there is any way to make it snow?
“There’s no need to get snarky,” I mumbled.
But, I sorta wished that was a possibility.
That snowstorm had been out of the ordinary, and, in fact, had been one reason why that night had been so magical.
Grinning, I dropped the items I’d brought with me, toed off my shoes, and slunk back down the hall.
Channeling my inner ninja, I oh so slowly peeked around the corner.
Hearing sounds in the kitchen, I took a chance on Daddy remaining there while I ducked into his office.
“Where is it?” I was about to give up and admit mimicking the setting was outside the realm of my abilities when I spotted it.
“Gotcha!” I whispered-shouted. Entering the hall again, a loud bang almost had me dropping it and squealing, but the sound of water running soothed the panic.
He was still in the kitchen doing only who knows what.
I tucked the prize under my shirt just in case he happened to glance out and see me and then had to strangle a giggle as the memory of Dawn’s story played again.
Concentrating on your story might be more productive.
Right!
Once safely back in the bedroom, I spent the next few minutes attempting to calm my pulse rate by taking several deep breaths, but it wasn’t working.
Then, how could I expect it to when every cell in my body was quivering with anticipation of what was to come.
Instead, I mimicked an action I’d become very familiar with over the last several days.
I did a second check of my memory of that night until I was satisfied I’d prepared the best I could for this night.
Now all I had to do was wait and see if my Santa Daddy thought the same.