“Where did you go? To be honest, I’m growing weary of your disappearing acts.”
“Went on a hunt, but came up empty.” Pam could see a deep sadness setting into his face. “Will you help me with the tree?”
Pam accepted his outstretched hand, not sure whether it was curiosity, charm, or love dust that kept her under his spell. They walked without speaking down the abandoned street. Colorful light displays twinkled all around them, but the fans of Christmas, now finished their day’s activities in the streets, had gathered to dance the night away. John unlocked the door of the center and Pam followed him inside. She let him lead and without a doubt realized she’d fallen in love with a man she barely knew.
Pam and John strung a small set of lights and wound gold ribbon through the branches. Next came the balls, angels, reindeer, snoopy and Nutcracker characters. One lonely Santa remained in the box. John lifted it out and held it, gazing at the figurine for a long time.
“My father is getting older,” John said. “He expects me to carry on the family business.”
“Does his line of work not interest you?”
“Yes, most of it does. I love the motivation of giving that Father’s mission statement provides. It’s all very captivating. For some bizarre reason, I imagined the grass greener out here in the real world, and left my family in pursuit of a better life.”
“And received a concussion for your effort. I remember that part of your journey,” Pam said.
“I didn’t leave home that long ago – but that’s debatable depending on who you talk to.” Pam chuckled when Cassie popped into her mind. Apparently John was thinking along the same line. He continued. “I suppose I should be grateful to have met the baker. Otherwise, I’d never know about the folks at home. Although I’m certain she’d have found me no matter where I tried to hide.”
“I’m sure that your parents understand a young man needs to sow his wild oats before fully committing to the family business. Without a vision, it’s better off sold or run by others.”
“Not in my father’s case. I am an only son, so the responsibility to comply falls on me.”
“I’m sorry. You are in a difficult predicament,” Pam said.
“More than you think. It appears I’ve lost the key to go home.”
Pam reached in her handbag. “You can use my key,” Pam offered jokingly.
“No. Yours is a replica,” John said in a serious thoughtful tone.” The real key to Christmas has gone missing. I’m sure I saw it at the bottom of this box earlier. My mind hadn’t connected the puzzle pieces together. Just figured it was a strange-looking key, but now I know it’s my only way home.”
Pam’s detected movement off to the side in the main room. Someone else was in the building. John noticed at the same time. They crept out and saw a green blur pass into another room. They followed, and followed. Every time they figured they were getting close, the shadow vanished and reappeared just out of reach.
Pam was ready to call it quits when the back alley where they now stood glowed as if in broad daylight. All thoughts of the assailant fled from her mind as she stared in disbelief. Someone had discarded props from the Santa Ville play awaiting Wednesday’s garbage pickup. The antique double door leaned against the building. It radiated a warm gold, red and green, and seemed to lure them forward as if in a trance. Pam’s mind commanded her feet to stop, but while engulfed in that awareness, her toes lifted from the ground and drifted forward. She frantically looked toward John. He grabbed her hand.
“Pam, I am so sorry. I promise I’ll give you choices. But today, I need your help. The village is in trouble, and it will take two of us to save it.”
As the door drew closer, and they showed no sign of slowing, Pam yelled, “John, I’m scared.”
“Nothing to fear. I’ve done this many times.”
The key from the box of decorations stuck out from the lock, and when John grabbed hold, it sucked them inside. Pam closed her eyes to stop her head from spinning. The temperature grew colder, and at some point, a thick, red cape swooped around her chilled body. A woollen hat covered her head, and soft mittens worked onto her hands. She found John’s arm and hung on for dear life. When the whirling tunnel ended, they stepped out onto a snow-covered surface. Icy flatlands bordered them on three sides but directly ahead stood a humongous mountain of snow.
John panicked at the sight. He threw off his mitts and began to dig.
“What are you doing, John?”
“The door is here – somewhere.” He bounced to his feet. “This won’t work. I know another way in.” He counted his steps and stopped at a shorter, more rectangular shape in the snow. He dropped to his knees again. “This will be easier. Dig, Pam! It’s freezing out here.”
Pam obeyed eager to find whatever John thought should be there. After five minutes he shouted, “Kringle!” She assumed he was pleased. After a few sweeps with his arm, which sprayed a cascade of flying, fluffy snow, a small door appeared. His enthusiasm was short-lived.
“Someone locked the tunnel entrance. It’s never locked.” John thought for a moment, then yanked Pam to her feet.
“This is your part! This is why you had to come,” John said. Fearful excitement etched his brow.
“My part? That’s absurd. I don’t even know where we are.”
“Santa Ville, in the North Pole. I’m home, and they’ve locked me out.” He removed the key from his pocket and stared at it. “Only true love can
