Merry Mistletoe by Annette Dashofy

“This is stupid.” 

Those three words had become the repetitive mantra of Lauren Sanders’s teenage foster son, Marcus, for the last few months. He was at the age where he knew more than anyone else, especially her. Today, he was dismissing her plans for the two of them to attend a Christmas party at the Marsdale American Legion. “It’s not stupid. It’ll be festive.” 

“It’ll be a bunch of little kids getting cheap presents from a fake Santa.” 

His description of the jolly old elf amused her. “As opposed to the real Santa?” 

Marcus made a sour face. “Right.” The sarcasm dripping from the word was thicker than refrigerated honey. “The only reason you’re going is because you’re doing a story on it.” 

Partly true. Lauren was an investigative reporter, so yes, she was going to write a piece about the community event, but there was nothing shady about it that needed to be investigated. “The reason we are going is because Abby Baronick invited us. You remember Abby.” 

“Cute cop. Works with Chief Adams.” 

The fact Marcus thought of Abby as “cute” had Lauren fighting a smile. Marcus was smack in the middle of his teens. Abby was close to ten years older and involved in a serious relationship with Seth Metzger, another of Vance Township’s police officers. Marcus was growing up. Too fast. “Abby is supposed to be one of Santa’s elves,” Lauren said, watching for a reaction. 

Marcus tried to act unaffected, but she spotted a spark in the teen’s eyes. 

“But you’re right.” Lauren opted for reverse psychology. “You don’t want to hang around with a bunch of little kids, a fake Santa, and Abby in an elf costume.” 

He huffed. “I don’t want to, but I’ll go.” 

Lauren chose not to say anything more. She had him where she wanted him and didn’t want him to reverse course. With Abby’s help, the fake Santa had a special gift with Marcus’s name on it in his bag of goodies. 

* 

Later that afternoon, Lauren strode from the packed parking lot into the American Legion Hall with Marcus at her side. He’d agreed to wear the black button-down shirt that went with his new suit, but that was as close to dressing up as he would go. Lauren called it a win when the jeans he insisted on wearing were clean and free of holes. 

The hall, like the lot, was packed. Young families with small children, some of whom squealed with delight as they thundered around the open space, mingled beneath red and green streamers and garland. Some gathered at a table covered with brightly decorated Christmas cookies and a bowl of red punch. In the center of the room, Santa occupied a red velvet throne surrounded by puffs of what looked more like pillow stuffing than snow. As far as “fake” Santas went, Lauren had to admit, this guy looked pretty darned authentic. 

Abby Baronick stood at his side in a short green dress with tights, a pointy hat, and elf ears. Lauren snuck a glance at Marcus, who’d clearly spotted the young cop and was wearing a smitten grin. 

Across the room, a half dozen other teens, who looked bored to tears, huddled together. Older kids, whose parents dragged them along while the younger siblings, played or waited in line to tell Santa what they most wanted to find under their tree on Christmas morning. 

Lauren pointed at the outliers. “See? You aren’t the only teenager here. You can hang out with them while I get what I need for my story.” 

Marcus grumbled something and sauntered away. Lauren watched the path he took as he veered toward Santa. No, not Santa. His “elf.” Marcus called to Abby and waved when she looked up. She waved back with a big smile. Then Marcus continued toward the other teens. Abby, however, searched the crowd until her eyes met Lauren’s. The elf’s grin turned conspiratorial as she gave a nod and a thumbs-up. 

Someone bumped Lauren’s shoulder. She looked up to see Abby’s older brother, Monongahela County Police Detective Wayne Baronick, holding two plastic cups of the red punch, one of which he offered to Lauren. 

“Thanks.” She accepted and took a sip. Too sweet for her, but the little ones probably loved it. 

“Are you ready?” Wayne asked. 

Lauren acted coy. “For what.” 

“Right.” He winked. “Big surprise. Does he know?” 

“Not a clue.” 

“Are you sure?” 

She took another sip. “Marcus is a horrible liar. Trust me. He has no idea.” 

“I’m surprised you got him here.” 

“Wasn’t easy. But I mentioned your sister would be here, and that swayed him.” 

“My sister?” Wayne appeared puzzled. 

“Marcus has a crush.” 

“On Abby?” Wayne chuckled. “Wait until I tell her.” 

Lauren elbowed him. “Don’t you dare. I suppose you don’t remember being fifteen, almost sixteen, and being enamored of an older woman.” 

Wayne’s gaze turned dreamy. “Miss Van Dyne. My high school algebra teacher. Long auburn hair. Wore these tight sweaters—” 

Lauren gave him a second elbow. “I get the picture.” 

Wayne smiled. “Marcus’s secret is safe with me.” 

From across the room, raised voices lifted over the happy jabbering of youngsters. Lauren looked toward the source and muttered an oath. Two of the teens were engaging in a shouting match with Marcus in the middle. One kid shoved the other. Marcus had a hand on the chest of the teen doing the shoving, holding him back. The other kid recovered and came toward them, swinging. 

Lauren launched in their direction. Wayne charged past her. Parents were running toward the teens. A few of the younger children started crying. 

Wayne plowed through the parents who were circling the melee. Lauren followed on his heels, clutching the back of his shirt lest someone try to hold her back.

By the time they reached the teens, the two doing the shoving were tussling on the floor, arms swinging. Marcus had an arm around one of them, trying to pull him off the other. A fourth boy jumped in and grabbed a handful of Marcus’s hair. Marcus yelped. A father joined in the fray, grabbing Marcus and the hair-puller by the arms. 

“That’s enough.” Wayne’s take-control cop voice drowned out all the others. Even the two combatants stopped throwing punches and looked toward him. 

In the midst of it, an elf in a green dress appeared and landed on her knees next to the fighters. Grabbing each by an arm, Abby stood and brought them with her, giving them a shake. Lauren could hear her tell them, “Shame on you, acting like spoiled brats in front of your little brothers and sisters. And Santa!” 

Lauren wondered if the boys knew Abby was a cop or if merely being scolded by one of Santa’s elves was enough for them to hang their heads in shame. 

Wayne joined her and snatched the pair by their collars. “I got this, Sis. Go back to being Santa’s helper.” 

Abby brushed off the knees of her tights. “Don’t hurt them too badly, officer,” she said, giving her brother a wink. 

Her words had their desired effect as the boys’ eyes widened. 

As Lauren watched, Wayne marched the pair out of the hall with the fathers trailing behind. 

“Everything’s under control,” Abby assured the onlookers. “Have some more punch and cookies. Come on over and see Santa.” 

Lauren moved toward Marcus, who was casting apologetic looks at Abby. “I tried to break it up before they started throwing punches,” he told her. 

She stuffed her hands into her elf dress pockets. “I know you did. I saw you.” She glanced at Lauren before coming back to Marcus. “You’re a good kid, you know.” Abby brought one hand from her pocket, held a green sprig over the boy’s head, and brushed his cheek with a quick kiss before pivoting and hurrying back to the jolly old elf on the red throne. 

Marcus stood motionless, his mouth gaping and stars in his eyes. 

* 

A half hour passed with no more shenanigans from the older kids. Wayne had given the two rowdies a good talking to and turned them over to their parents before reporting back to Lauren. 

“Pete’s given Marcus a few come-to-Jesus talks,” she told him. “Next time, maybe I should give you the job.” 

Wayne grinned. “Marcus is a good kid. The only time he gets into mischief, it’s because he tries to play intermediary between two of the real troublemakers.” 

She was well aware of that but needed the reminder from time to time. 

The line for Santa was growing short, and Lauren caught Abby’s eye. The elf responded with a nod. 

“It’s time,” Lauren said to Wayne. She looked around. “Now, where did that boy get off to?” 

“I saw him heading for the men’s room. I’ll get him.” 

Alone except for the remaining families in her periphery, Lauren had a chance to think about her decision for the hundredth or so time. It was the right one. She’d given it a lot of thought and taken all the proper steps. But there was still one big hurdle in her path. A few minutes later, that hurdle approached her, escorted by Detective Wayne Baronick.

“You ready to go?” Marcus asked hopefully. 

“Just about,” she said. “But you need to visit Santa first.” 

“Aw, come on. I’m almost sixteen. I’m not gonna sit on some old dude’s lap and tell him I want a pony for Christmas.” 

“You don’t have to sit on his lap.” Lauren held up her phone. “Just stand by him. I want to take your picture.” 

From his expression, she might as well have asked him to eat raw liver. 

Wayne nudged him. “Humor her. Go do it.” He leaned down and whispered loud enough for Lauren to hear. “Abby will be in the picture with you.” 

Marcus flushed a brilliant red. “Stop it, you guys.” But he looked at Lauren. “All right. If I don’t, you’ll never let me forget about it.” 

“That’s right,” she said. “Think of it as my Christmas present.” 

He gave her an ornery grin. “Does that mean I can return the scarf and gloves I got you?” 

She shoved him gently toward the red throne. “Just get over there already.” 

Wayne moved with her, closer to Santa. She leaned against the tall detective, her knees suddenly weak. 

“It’ll be fine,” Wayne said softly. 

There was one little tyke ahead of Marcus. Once she’d received her gift stocking and candy cane, she scurried away, leaving only a very uncomfortable teen. 

Abby waved him forward, and Lauren got her phone camera ready. Wayne took it from her. “You need to be in this picture, too.” 

He was right. She hoped. “Just be sure to get one of him before I join him.” 

“It’s handled. Relax.” 

She tried to laugh, but it came out garbled. 

Abby turned to Santa. “This is Marcus Baker. I told you about him.” 

“Ah, yes.” Santa’s voice boomed. 

Not only did he look like the real Santa, he sounded like him, Lauren thought. 

Santa reached toward the dwindling pile of stockings and came up with a rolled piece of paper, a red ribbon tied around it. “Before you tell me what you want for Christmas, young man, I have a special gift for you.” 

Lauren wished Marcus’s back wasn’t to her. She wanted to see his face. 

He hesitantly accepted the scroll. “What’s this?” 

“Open it, silly,” Abby said, “and find out.” 

Marcus pulled the end of the ribbon, undoing the bow, and let it slide to the floor. He unrolled the paper and read it in silence. 

Lauren’s heart pounded within her chest. 

He looked at her, mouth open. It took three tries before he managed to speak. “You—this—” He held up the document. “Is this for real?” 

“It will be after we see the judge tomorrow morning,” Lauren said, her own voice sticking in her throat. “If it’s okay with you.” 

“I’m going to be your son? For real? Like? You’re adopting me?” 

She repeated, “If it’s okay with you.” She needed desperately to hear him say it. 

“Okay?” His almost-sixteen-year-old voice cracked, and tears gleamed in his eyes. “It’s all I’ve wanted since…” 

Lauren went to him before he had to say the rest. 

Since his mother went to prison. 

Lauren wrapped him in her arms. “Yes. For real. I’m adopting you.” 

He hugged her back, his tears dampening her shoulder. His voice was muffled as he said, “Thanks, Mom.” 

* 

The party was breaking up. Parents had taken their little ones home. Santa had unbuttoned the top of his red jacket revealing a matching red t-shirt and stood at the cookie table chatting with one of the ladies from the American Legion as she packaged the few remaining treats. 

Lauren watched from one side of the room, feeling as content as she ever had. She and Marcus had spent two Christmases together already, but this, their third, would be different. They would really and truly be mother and son. 

Marcus, she noticed, was helping Abby sweep the floor clean of crumbs and bits of wrapping paper. 

“Hey, Mom.” Wayne appeared from behind her and nudged her gently. “I would have to say that went well.” 

“It did.” She tipped her head toward her son and Wayne’s sister. “I can never get him to work like that at home. At least, not without complaining.” 

“He’s a teenager. What do you expect?” 

“Maybe I should ask Abby to stop by when there are chores to be done.” 

Wayne chuckled. “Seth might get jealous.” 

She smiled. “I wouldn’t want that.” 

They stood in silence for a few minutes before Wayne cleared his throat. “Do you guys have plans for Christmas Eve?” 

“Probably a quiet evening at home. Then over to Zoe and Pete’s for Christmas morning.” 

“How would you like to join me—and Abby—at our parents’ house?” 

Lauren looked up at him. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose.” 

“You’re not. We’d love to have you.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I would love to have you join us.” 

Lauren gazed across the room at her son and the huge smile on his face. “I’m pretty sure Marcus would enjoy it. Thank you. I accept.” 

Wayne’s hands came out of his pockets, and he lifted one over her head. Before she knew what was going on, he’d slipped the other around her and pulled her in, pressing a quick but warm kiss to her lips. 

He released her, and she staggered, dazed. “What—was that?” 

His cheeks reddened as he showed her the sprig of mistletoe. “Too much?” 

Lauren gazed at the bit of green, her heart pounding once again. “No.” She took the sprig from him, stood on her tiptoes to hold it over his head, and returned the kiss, leaning into him. 

A whoop from the back of the room broke them up. Lauren turned to see Marcus and Abby yelping and catcalling at them, big grins on their faces. 

Lauren brought her gaze back to Wayne and mimicked, “Too much?” 

“Not on your life.” He tipped his head toward her. “Just be forewarned, my mom likes to hang this stuff everywhere.” 

Lauren nodded her approval. “I’m okay with that.”