Obviously the spelling trick was no longer a viable option.
Elizabeth said something to her youngest daughter, but Merrie didn’t catch it, other than to know words were being spoken. The man in the red suit was filling her thoughts as well, but in a much different way than he was for Becca.
And, those painful words were bouncing around inside her skull once again.
“It would be your fault…”
Even as the phrase echoed silently through her head, she could feel him. His hand slipping beneath the pleated skirt of her school uniform as he groped her in places he shouldn’t touch. The bare light bulb inside the janitor’s closet cast a dim glow from above, and as he held her down he appeared as little more than a hulking silhouette in muddy tones of red and white. He stank with a weird “grandma’s house” smell of cigarettes, mothballs, and peppermint candies. It filled her nose, tingling and taking her breath away as he held his other hand pressed tightly over her mouth. Even now, she could feel the hot tears that had burned her eyes as he pushed his fingers into the waistband of her underwear and pulled them down around her knees.
“Remember, this is a secret…” he whispered, his cigarette stinking breath was wet on her cheek, and the fake beard felt scratchy against her skin. “If you tell anyone, I’ll have to come to your house and hurt your parents. Maybe even kill them. It would be your fault that I would have to kill them. You don’t want that to happen, do you? You don’t want to make me kill your parents, right? Promise you won’t tell…”
She had tried to promise, but her mouth was still covered and all that came out was a whine from her nose. Of course, it didn’t matter, because he wasn’t listening to her anyway. He was already doing things he shouldn’t do.
Things that hurt…
Things that made her cry…
“We’ll see, Becca… We’ll see…” Elizabeth’s exasperated voice snapped Merrie back into the here and now, but the memories remained, fresh and painful as ever.
She shrunk herself as small as she could inside her down-filled coat, balling her small hands into tight fists and pulling them up into the puffy sleeves. She pushed her chin against her chest and her dark hair flopped forward to cover her face. The air from the heater vent in the floorboard was hot against her legs, and it reminded her of his rough, probing hands against her skin. She shuddered, and then lifted her chin and turned her head to look out the side window. In an absent motion she reached up and brushed the hair from her eyes with the back of her sleeve.
Merrie stared through the smudged pane of glass as the landscape rushed by. The sun was already resting low on the horizon behind them, so the snow covered fields on either side of the highway were already filling with scary, blue-black shadows. But home wasn’t all that far away. They would be there soon and then maybe she would finally feel safe.
Home had to be safe. It just had to be. Surely he couldn’t find them there. Ater all, he wasn’t really Santa Claus. Santa wasn’t even real. So he didn’t have a magic list.
But maybe he didn’t need one. He knew her name…
“Ho, Ho, Ho!” he bellowed, putting on a show for Sister Conran. “Why yes, Sister. Yes, Merrie was very helpful today. Thank you so much for letting her assist me. I wouldn’t have been prepared to visit with the younger children without her. She’s Santa’s special little helper. Aren’t you, Merrie?”
She wanted to cringe when he reached over and rubbed his hand against her back in a way that just didn’t feel right. She thought about telling the nun what had really happened, but she knew Sister Conran would probably think she was lying.
“What do you say, Merrie Frances?” Sister Conran demanded, her voice sharp and mean like always.
“Yes, sir… Thank you for letting me help.” Merrie managed to choke out the words, but she kept her eyes aimed at the floor as she spoke. She simply couldn’t bear to look at him.
“Yes,” he continued with his praise and unwelcome touching. “Merrie is Santa’s very special little helper, she is… VERY special…”
Merrie’s stomach continued to churn as a new wave of fear settled over her. He knew her name.
But… it’s just my name, she thought. And I live in Hulis, not Mais. That’s a whole town away. He can’t really know where I live. Unless he is following us…
Hollowness filled Merrie’s chest at the thought, and she wasn’t sure she could breathe anymore. She closed her eyes and tried to wish as hard as she could that she was really just asleep. That this was all just a terrible nightmare, and that when she opened her eyes she would be waking up in her bed. And that instead of mothballs and cigarettes, she would smell the fresh cut evergreen Christmas tree in the living room… And wood burning in the fireplace… And hot oatmeal with lots of butter, and cinnamon, and brown sugar, just the way she liked it…
But when she finally did open her eyes, the snowy fields were still flashing by the window behind a gray- white fog on the inside of the glass. And though he wasn’t here, his nasty smell lingered in her nose, even if it was just a bad memory.
And, she was still afraid.
Merrie loosened her safety belt then slowly twisted in the seat, lifting herself up just enough to see over its back. Fear or not, she had to know if he was following them. Peeking carefully through the rear window she saw no cars, just the empty, dark asphalt of the highway funneling toward a shrinking point in the distance.
At least now maybe she could breathe.
“Santa Claus is coming to town!” Becca crooned, grinning at her older sister and waving her hands as she yelped out the song. “Watch out! He’s gonna find out you’re naughty and nice! Santa Claus…”
Merrie managed a weak smile at her sibling before turning around and settling back into her seat and rearranging her safety belt. Becca didn’t understand. She still believed in reindeer. And magic. And happiness. And Santa. She didn’t know who he really was. She didn’t know what the man in the red suit would do to her. That thought frightened Merrie most of all.
“Is something wrong?” Elizabeth asked, glancing into the rear view mirror, then over at her daughter.
“No.”
“You’re not acting like yourself, honey.”
“I’m okay. Just tired from the party. Like you said.”
“Okay…” Elizabeth sighed, then added, “I really hope you aren’t coming down with that flu. Especially this close to Christmas.”
“Mom?” Merrie asked after a short pause.
“Yes?”
“Does God really hate you if you have bad thoughts about someone?”
Elizabeth glanced at her daughter thoughtfully and then centered her eyes back on the road. “Is that what the nuns at school tell you?”
“They say you’ll go to hell.”
Her mother sighed. “Are you having bad thoughts about someone?”
Merrie mumbled, “Yes.”
“Who?”
“Just…someone.”
“You don’t want to tell me?”
Inside her head, the bad words bullied Merrie once again.
“Remember. This is a secret… If you tell anyone, I’ll have to come to your house and hurt your parents. Maybe even kill them. It would be your fault that I would have to kill them. You don’t want that to happen, do you? You don’t want to make me kill your parents, right? Promise you won’t tell…”
“I can’t…” she replied.
“Why not?”
“I just can’t… I… I sort of made a promise.”
Elizabeth glanced at her daughter again. “So is that what’s really bothering you, honey? These bad thoughts… Is that maybe why you’re feeling sick?”
Merrie gave her a shallow nod. “Sort of… I guess.”
Her mother sighed. “You’re only ten-years-old, sweetheart. I’m sure God will forgive you.”
“Are you really sure?”
