Stranded With Santa. Janet Tronstad

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СКАЧАТЬ calf every time a woman talked about it. Anyone with any sense could see that the life he’d led didn’t prepare him for marriage.

      Not that he didn’t like women. He did. He just had sense enough to know his limitations. He didn’t even have a year-round mailing address; he’d be a fool to think he would be any good at marriage.

      “Yeah, well, it was only a thought,” the doctor said as he pointed to the back of the truck. “Now, you remember what I said about the camera back there. Delores promised Jenny pictures of her little boy with Santa, and I’ll never hear the end of it if you don’t remember to take one.”

      “Pictures.” Zach grimaced. “I’m not much good at pictures.”

      “What? You can’t tell me that. Even I’ve seen your picture in the paper. You looked okay to me.”

      “Well, the news photos—and the ads—they’re all right. But they’re not, well, personal.”

      Zach didn’t know how to explain his reluctance to have a picture of him in some family album along with pictures of babies and grandmas. He’d feel a fraud. A family photo album was one place he didn’t belong.

      “There’s nothing to a Santa picture,” the doctor said, pushing ahead anyway. “It’s one of those cameras that prints out a picture while you wait. Jenny will even take the picture for you. And Delores said to leave it, in case Jenny wants to take other Christmas shots.”

      Zach nodded in defeat. What was Delores going for…mail carrier of the year?

      “And don’t forget about old Mrs. Goussley. She has a sweet tooth. Delores always gives her a few extra candy canes.” The doctor winked “Say they’re for her cats. She’ll give them back if you say they’re for her.”

      “Cats,” Zach repeated bleakly. Forget mail carrier of the year, Delores must be going for sainthood.

      “Mrs. Goussley likes her visit from Santa. She gets a kick out of the suit.” The doc eyed Zach. “I know my sister got carried away this year with putting those flashing lights around Santa’s belt, but you can keep them pressed off if you want. Plus the suit’s warm—all that padding. Still it might not be enough. Gets cold out there. Could drop to zero before you get back.”

      “I’ve got a sheepskin coat if it does.” Zach had put his duffel bag and the coat in the postal truck. The sheepskin was imitation, but of good enough quality to be worth a pretty penny. It wasn’t something he’d leave behind. Not that he didn’t trust the doctor, but he’d worked enough rodeos to know never to leave his duffel with strangers.

      “Oh, well then,” the doctor muttered as he walked toward the truck. “I’ll just put this pie inside and let you get going. Remember, now, the brakes turn a little to the left if you happen to be going downhill.”

      Zach nodded. He was definitely going downhill. Playing Santa to an old lady and her cats. Zach “Lightning” Lucas. He shook his head and pulled his Stetson down farther.

      He sure hoped no one saw him.

      Jenny Collins looked out the kitchen window again. Gray stormclouds almost covered the square butte west of her place. It was starting to snow, and the mail hadn’t come yet. Delores had told her the doctor might be late with the mail, but he’d see the package got to them. It wasn’t much, but it had the few presents she’d been able to get for the children, and she was anxious for them to arrive. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve day and, since it would be Sunday, there’d be no mail delivery then.

      She had kept thinking she would get the car running, so Jenny had not sent her list in with Delores until a few days ago. The box should contain a water pistol for Andy, a paint kit for Lisa, and much-needed mittens and scarves for them both. Four-year-old Andy really wanted a cowboy outfit with a hat, and eight-year-old Lisa really wanted a princess tiara, but they were both too expensive and nowhere to be found in Deep Gulch anyway.

      Maybe next year, Jenny consoled herself. She’d surely think of a way to make some money soon. She had to. She’d just spent everything except a few hundred dollars filling the propane tank so the furnace would keep going for the next few months. If nothing else, she wanted to be generous with heat when it came to their place.

      Their place. She repeated the phrase to herself in satisfaction. This Christmas it would be enough that they had a home that was all their own, even if the roof leaked on the south side of the living room and the linoleum in the kitchen had more cracks than color left. Still, the place had three bedrooms and no mortgage. She was glad her husband had forgotten he had the deed to this place. It was the one thing she had left when the estate was settled.

      She’d go looking for a job after Christmas. She’d have to go to Deep Gulch each day, anyway, once she enrolled Lisa in the school there.

      Jenny had talked to the second-grade teacher, and they’d agreed Lisa could start in January. Surely by then Jenny would have the car running.

      In the meantime, they were happy enough. Maybe more than happy. Jenny had always dreamed of living in a small town like Deep Gulch. Her dreams even included a mail carrier like Delores.

      Jenny and her family had rented a house for eight years on that wretched street in El Monte, just east of Los Angeles, and the mail delivery people there changed routes so often she doubted any of them knew her face let alone her name. Here, Delores greeted Jenny like a friend and spoiled the kids with dinosaur candy and news of her own grandchildren.

      Yes, Deep Gulch was home. Jenny just needed to find a way to make her piece of home support them.

      “Mom, I see her coming!” Andy’s voice carried from the back bedroom. He was obviously looking out the window himself.

      “Get down off those boxes, Andrew Joel.” If he could see out the window, it meant he was standing on the boxes again. Jenny didn’t intend to leave everything in boxes for long. She just hadn’t been able to buy dressers or book shelves or cabinets—none of the furniture that stored things.

      Jenny had left all their furniture in California. She’d had to. Their savings wouldn’t stretch to paying off the funeral expenses and hiring a moving van, as well. Besides, she’d hoped there might be furniture in the house already.

      That hope died when she took one look at the outside of the house and realized the inside probably wasn’t much better. The property wasn’t what she had expected. She doubted anything but thistle had grown on the place for the past ten years. The acreage was fenced, but half of the fence was down. The only trees were short scrub ones, and she’d already heard from someone at the store in Deep Gulch that the creek at the bottom of the coulee had been dry for the past five years.

      Still, Jenny knew this was their home. Even though it had already turned cold before they moved, the children liked to be outside. They had a freedom they had never known around Los Angeles.

      If the children were happy, Jenny could live without furniture for a few months. She’d told the kids they’d pretend they were camping. So far, they hadn’t complained.

      “But she’s coming!” Andrew said as he ran out of the bedroom door and down the small hallway. “She’s coming to get my letter.”

      “Oh, dear. I forgot,” Jenny remembered that Delores had promised Andy she’d take his letter special delivery to the North Pole so that Santa could read it before he began his trip tomorrow. Jenny had helped him write СКАЧАТЬ