Epilogue
I woke to the smell of pancakes. Staring up at the wooden beams, I couldn’t tell if I dreaded the reality of today, or if it made me excited.
Downstairs, loud humming gave away Nick’s mood.
For all the lifetimes he outlasted, he still couldn’t sing.
It didn’t stop his off-key, tuneless droning.
A year later, and it still made me crack a smile. Not that I’d ever admit it.
I opened my eyes. The past few months had been Nick’s “busy” season.
Tonight would mark the end for another year.
He and Charlene had been going back and forth about ways of speeding up production and a partnership with a manufacturer for those high-tech toys.
I thought I knew what I had gotten myself into, but nothing prepared for the electricity vibrating through the cabin this morning.
Heading downstairs, Nick stood in the kitchen, spatula in hand, flipping pancakes on a griddle.
He promised they were an ancient recipe and part of the game day ritual.
He wore a green shirt covered in reindeer.
I learned he only wore two colors, red and green.
Even his vast assortment of underwear followed the pattern.
Much like me, he was a creature of habit.
He noticed me watching and smiled. "Morning."
"Morning."
I moved into the kitchen. The table was already set.
Two of everything sat out on the same counter we had first shared a bowl of soup.
Two oversized mugs waited for coffee. Normal…
if you overlooked the fact that I shared a bed with the one and only Santa Claus.
I still had to pinch myself if I thought about it for too long.
Surprisingly enough, the hardest part of dating the big man was keeping his identity a secret.
I filled both mugs. I took a sip and caught the taste of chocolate and mint.
He might not need to worry about his cholesterol, but the doc said I needed to watch my numbers.
No matter how many times I wrote “Clean bill of health” on a Post-it and pressed it against Nick’s chest, he still hadn’t delivered.
He claimed that’s why he “let” me take the reindeer for walks. I think I had been bamboozled.
I handed him one as he plated another pancake. "Thank you."
“Are you going to explain the pancakes?”
“Nothing to explain. The Stone Ages were rough on everybody. I thought they needed something to cheer them up.” I couldn’t tell if he was joking. There had been a learning curve dating a man older than time. “A few thousand years later, and they’re still my favorite.”
Mrs. Claus never existed as we know her now.
She had been one of his interns. After a few trips around the globe on the sleigh, the world assumed they were married.
Rudolph wasn’t real either. Frosty the snowman had been his office manager for years and still maintained the North Pole production line.
The worker elves? Yup, elves from a pocket dimension he liberated from a dragon.
To be fair, he could have been lying about all of it.
He recounted tales, and I noted every time a smile spread across his face.
I sat at the counter as he delivered the pancakes. I might not understand the tradition, but I wouldn’t say no to Vermont maple syrup. As Nick sat down, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out something small. He set it on the table between us.
“What’s this?”
“A gift.” No surprise, giving gifts was Nick’s love language. I quickly learned there were no protests that could stop him. I guess it came with the territory.
A three-inch tall snowman. It wasn’t entirely smooth, still showing the blade marks where it had been carved by hand.
Around its neck, he had etched a design into a tiny scarf.
There was no point in saying niceties like, “You shouldn’t have.
” He could give any gift written on a letter, but this, he had taken time to whittle it down from a stick.
"For you," Nick said.
I picked it up. The craftsmanship was incredible. Every detail had been intentional, nothing rushed or careless. I couldn’t fathom when he had the time in his busy schedule.
"When did you make this?"
"Last night. While you were sleeping." I turned it over in my palm. “I meant to make one for you years ago.” He shot me a wink. “You still turned out alright.”
"Thank you."
I had fought supervillains and saved hundreds if not thousands of people.
I had protected presidents and ambassadors.
The missions were tough, but nothing compared to finding a gift for the king of gift giving.
I had thought long and hard about what I’d get him.
Charlene had checked my list, dismissing everything.
I could still see her nose crinkled at my ideas.
It had taken time, but I found the perfect gift.
Dashing to the entry closet, I pulled out a small box I had hidden in one of my shoes. I returned with the poorly wrapped present. “I wanted you to have this.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his glasses.
When he put on the round spectacles, he transformed into the legendary Santa.
He wasn’t so different from the superheroes in Vanguard.
When he donned the glasses, hat, and jacket, he transformed into his own kind of hero.
I liked both versions. Maybe once or twice I had him wear the jacket to bed.
“It’s not much.” He tore at the paper like a madman. Nick apparently loved getting gifts as much as he did handing them out.
He pulled off the lid, his eyes going wide. He lifted the brass-colored badge. He let out a gasp as he turned it over. “I can’t accept this. It’s your father’s—”
“I want you to have it.”
His arm reached across the table. His fingers wiggled, waiting for me.
I rested my hand in his. With a tight squeeze, I couldn’t help but crack a smile.
That badge represented the very reason I first put on the suit.
Later, it’d motivate me to join the Task Force.
Dad had been a hero, and not because he wore a gun on his hip.
It was all the things he did that never warranted attention.
“Every hero deserves a badge.”
“But—”
“I have my deputy badge.”
His eyes watered. He let go of my hand to lift his glasses and wipe away the tears.
A year ago, he had been willing to fade into oblivion.
We both had. Standing in the park that morning, he realized he the world still cared.
I retired from the Task Force, but I wasn’t ready to lie down in my coffin. Not yet. Nick gave me a new mission.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
He ran his thumb over the badge. I watched the light catch on the brass.
This is what life looked like after retirement.
Breakfasts with this burly man and searching for meaningful gifts.
My world had grown softer since leaving the Task Force, but as I studied the way he bit his lip, I had a new reason to keep moving forward.
The back door slammed shut. Chaos had returned. I turned in my seat to see Charlene shaking snow off her parka. For the last three months, she had become a permanent fixture. There was no point in locking the doors with her around.
“Oh.” She kicked off her boots, revealing mismatched wool socks. “You made us breakfast.”
She grabbed a pancake off the plate, rolled it and chomped away. Dating Nick meant learning to love his intern. While he provided the magical elements, she handled the logistics. The Santa brand had gone high-tech thanks to her.
“As your head of operations,” she started, emphasizing the promotion she gave herself. “I wanted to let you know we’re on schedule for midnight.”
Whenever they talked business, my mind drifted.
I once asked her how he hit every house in one night.
She dropped a manual on my desk. I had yet to read a page of “The Physics of Santa Claus.” I preferred to leave some things to mystery.
Watching him engage, that was what warmed my heart.
Every day since, I reminded him he mattered. The 'to me' was always implied.
While they rambled about time distortions, I noticed movement from the corner of my eye.
Something had slid under the front door.
They didn’t pay me any attention as I got up and walked across the living room.
Despite having the front door rebuilt with state-of-the-art tech to keep out intruders, a single envelope had slipped through.
“Curious,” I mumbled. It pulsed with a faint yellow light. Living with Nick for the last six months, nothing surprised me. From self-lighting candles to a fire that never died, the cabin had a life of its own.
I picked up the envelope. On the front, purple crayon had scribbled “To Santa.” I discovered that he did, in fact, read every letter. As they arrived, they showed up on his tablet, and his ability to speed through them was just another quirk of dating a myth.
The back opened on its own. I pulled it out, eyeing the messy handwriting.
Santa,
My sister says you’re not real. Can you tell her she’s wrong?
Tommy
PS - Could I have a Sentinel action figure?
I couldn’t help but smile at the request. Charlene told me they had seen a drastic uptick in personal appearances.
Since the fight with the horned man, everybody wanted to see the real Santa Claus.
Nick thought he was being sly going into the city on errands.
I knew he posed as a mall Santa. The lines had grown longer, and he wanted to make sure every kid got face time with him.
“We have a last-minute request.”
I sat at the table to see that half of the pancakes had gone missing.
Charlene covered her mouth as she swallowed.
I slid the plate across the table, out of her reach.
Boundaries were nonexistent. She’d claim it was part of her charm.
I’d roll my eyes. It wouldn’t be the first time we did this song and dance.
“Got time for a surprise visit?”
Charlene grabbed the letter. Her gauntlet was already spitting out information. “Tommy Sinclair. Five years old. 725 Mayberry Lane.” I waited for the only statement that mattered. “He’s on the good list.” Yes, there were lists, and she checked them twice. Who knew the jingles had been accurate?
His schedule was filled with prepping for the big flight. Because of time zones, he’d have to be out the door any minute. I mouthed a “Please.” The corner of his lip turned up, ready for a challenge.
“Charlene, plot out a new course. I need to surprise Mr. Sinclair.”
“But—”
He stood up from the table, silencing her protests. Holding out his hand, the closet door opened, and the red jacket came flying out. The determination and force behind the man’s actions made my heart swell. The myth had returned, and he wouldn’t disappoint a child in need.
He eyed me, eyes narrowing. “What are you waiting for?”
My head cocked to the side. “Huh?”
“Up for being Santa’s little helper?”
Charlene laughed. She buckled over, hand slapping against the table. “He thought he’d get away without working tonight?” She collapsed to the floor, still wailing. “That’s hilarious.” Did I mention Charlene was a lot?
I nodded. “You owe me.”
His eyebrow cocked high on his forehead. “I’ll wear the jacket later.”
Sold.
Charlene’s laughter stopped. “Ew. Can we not talk about defiling Santa?”
I watched him pull on the coat. The myth lived. I never stopped believing. First, we did the unthinkable and delivered gifts across the globe. Then, we’d spend the next day in bed. Jacket included.