Santa's Wish

I wrote this for my grandsons because their mom, mu daughter, is battling cancer. I picked up ten-year-old Kai from school and asked him to read it. When he was done I asked him, his opinion. He liked it but said there was a comma missing five lines down: “About a year after Michael died[add comma] her baby started…” He also suggested I supply a reason for why the weight-year-old girl had a big vocabulary. Although Kai is well read, it tickled me because who’s smarter than a fifth grader?

Santa’s Wish

by RW Richard

dedicated to Kai, Ian and Sebastian

Mother and daughter, sipping hot cocoas, stood in a long line for Macy’s Santa. Although a workaholic City Attorney, Holly Lombardy, would always have time for her baby, Michelle. Besides, snow and high winds awaited them for their walk home down Broadway to Chelsea.

“Mommy, you got to.”

About a year after Michael died, her baby started a precocious campaign to get a boyfriend for her mom. Now, about three years after her husband’s death in Afghanistan, her eight-year-old, armed with more reason, became relentless. On top of that, her love of reading and school, Michelle played or read in her mom's home office, often while Holly engaged in complex conversations via phone.

“It’s you have to, sweetheart. Not got to.”

“Do you think of me? I might want a daddy presence in the house.”

Holly smiled. What planet did this little exasperator hail from? Nonetheless, Michelle was her whole world and Holly loved it that way.

“There are such little things, like love, to consider. I still miss and love your daddy.” The line to Santa moved closer to where she could just see an elf’s ear.

“We both know that love is infinitely big.”

“You don’t need to use big. It’s redundant.”

“You aren’t on the point, mommy. It’s called avoidance.”

“You’re called a nuisance.”

Her baby pouted. After Michelle spent some time looking at the train circling nearby, and a boy waiving, they were almost in front of Santa.

“Is he a classmate?”

“He’s just a boy. We need a man.”

Holly burst out laughing.

“Santa will see you now.”

Santa, aka NYPD Detective Sam Samuels, was indeed seeing them now. There she was, that hot shot NYC attorney. That hot everything woman with puckish face and blow-you-away personality. A woman that he admired from afar, being a gutless wonder.

Soon she’d be a little closer and if reindeers had antlers he’d find a way to speak to her.

The red-haired, curly-topped child climbed onto his lap. “What’s your name, little girl?”

“I’m Michelle Lombardy and this is my mom. You can call her Holly.”

Santa peered hesitantly into Holly’s eyes and saw that she was amused by her take-charge daughter. From what he could tell, they were cut from the same cloth.

“Hello, Holly,” he bellowed in his best Santa baritone. “And what do you want for Christmas, Michelle?”

“I’d like Play Station 4 with 1 terabyte and a Ken for my Barbie and Star Wars Legos and two different colored socks and a new dad and a husband for my mother.”

“Ho ho ho.” He belly-laughed. Peeked at Holly. She gave him a thumb up and then the thumb turned downward, as if she were emperor.

“Well, Michelle, you are on my nice list. So, you will be getting much of what you asked for.”

“I don’t want anything if I can’t get a new daddy. He died in Afgan-ah-stand.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. But he’s a hero in heaven.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, and he loves you so very much.” Holly’s eyes welled over. “At the North Pole where I work, we make toys and gifts for good little boys and girls, but we have never made a person.”

“I know that.” Michelle frowned. “Well, maybe you can use some magic on a lonely but very handsome guy, because my daddy was handsome…who you think would be a good match for mommy.”

“Well,” he looked at Holly for guidance. She threw her hands up and her eyes took in the ceiling. “What do you say, Holly?”

“I’m happy. My baby is all I need.”

“She’s lying. She’s lying. Please Santa, look into her heart.”

“Well, Holly, I’m looking into your heart right now and I see a happy woman, who loves her daughter. I also see a man in your future someday but probably not by Christmas.” He winked, and Holly winked back. “You see, little one, true love is God’s department, and He will know when.”

“Weeell, okay, but if you do find somebody, please put holes in the gift box so he can breathe.”

He thought of the puppy his nephew was about to receive. “Of course, the rules and regulations book specifically calls out breathing as very important. Every elf is properly trained.”

“Thank you, Santa.”

With that and two candy canes, they were gone.

Next morning at 1 Police Plaza, after Sam reported that the ASM, ass-squeezing-masher, did not show at Macy’s the day before, he found his friend, detective, Paul Gottinger. While they talked Sam pulled up Holly Lombardy’s address.

“I’m smitten, Paul. I saw her, yesterday. I actually talked to her and now it’s eating me up.”

“Got a date?”

“No, she was with her daughter and I was playing Santa Claus.”

“So?”

“Well, I was feeling full of eggnog, Christmas cookies. Besides, Mrs. Claus would have a fit if I looked at another woman.”

“Start at the beginning and leave no part out. No part.” Paul flipped out his interview book and chuckled. “Just the facts.” He touched the pencil tip to his tongue.

Sam told the story word for word.

“I know the super at the building she lives in. I’ve got an idea.” Paul said.

When Paul got ideas usually something crazy would go down, but he heard him out.

Early Christmas morning three men delivered a big box to the hallway right outside Holly’s door and then two men left the building. One of them, as planned, would call up to Holly and tell her of the present.

Sam sat legs too-crossed in a box that smelled like his buddies had stolen it from a fish factory. This is not good. He sweated, even though there were plenty of “breathing” holes. He had to admit to a touch of claustrophobia. Just like the time he had chased a perp into the labyrinth of pipes and cables, of and an ever-narrowing access tunnel under the 10^th street subway. It wasn’t the man’s knife that bothered him. The man was small and wiry. Sam was 6’2” and broad-shouldered. He caught the bastard before he slithered down a rat hole. The jewels were recovered.

Sam faintly heard snippets of words by Holly with her daughter’s excited voice mingling.

“Oh my, what have we here?” Holly was not too popular with certain underworld types, so she paused and considered getting her Glock.

“It’s him, It’s my new daddy.”

“Or maybe an elephant.”

“No-o-o.”

Watching her daughter tear at the box, Holly backed into the kitchen and grabbed a knife.

“Honey, please move away from the package.” She called her friend Joe, the super, who told her everything she needed to know. A good snitch is hard to come by.

“Michelle, this knife I have,” she shouted into a breathing hole, “can do two things. It can defend against stranger danger and open a box. At this point her nose registered a complaint. Either he’s fishy or he needs out of this box.

“Could Santa’s idea of a boyfriend be that 6”6” Italian, my counterpart in Brooklyn? He’s so good-looking. Could it be the mayor’s son? Not bad either. Or maybe a giant fish.”

“Come on, mom. Open it. Open it.”

“Or maybe, that James Bond lookalike. That detective, Sam Samuels. The shy one.”

“M-ah-om.”

Holly carefully cut through all the tape holding the front of the box and opened the flap. She beheld a beautiful man. A man she had always wondered about. Her baby, happy-faced, held out one hand. The other pinched her nose.

“Why don’t you come in, Sam, and stay awhile.” Yeah, maybe a long while.