Christmas Carol & the Shimmering Elf Page 14

  Uncle Christopher laughed. “Delaying the inevitable, my elven friend. Fine, I’ll just take care of my dear niece first. And that’ll be that.” He drew his hand back. The vortex wasn’t fully formed yet. I had run out of time. He was going to win. I closed my eyes, praying for a miracle. Awaiting the final blow. “So long, Carol,” he snarled.

  But what came instead was a scream. Grief and rage. My eyes popped open. Sebwe was on his feet, fists clenched at his sides. Uncle Christopher glanced at him in surprise. Sebwe’s arm flew back. My uncle put up his staff to shield himself. Sebwe let loose. The blast hit full force, incredibly powerful. Uncle Christopher flew backward, cartwheeling through the snow. He groaned and got to his feet. He picked up the staff that had fallen beside him. He turned to Sebwe, fury etched in every feature of his face. “I’m going to let that slide,” he said. Sebwe fired another blast, staggering Uncle Christopher. But only for a second. He raised up and blasted Sebwe, who rocketed backward, landing hard.

  My vortex swirled. A massive tornado of time. With one final push, I poured every ounce of energy I had through my cane. The vortex snapped into focus.

  Grandmother shouted, “Now, Carol!” And she was beside me, appearing through a portal. I directed my energy toward Uncle Christopher, who was focused on Sebwe. I manipulated the threads around us, grabbing him as if I had a giant hand, lifting him in the air. He fought hard. He was still strong. I couldn’t hold him for long. Uncle Christopher hovered, writhing and struggling. He managed to turn himself. He raised his staff. His face was fiery red. He pulled his arm back. But Sebwe had gotten to his feet and attacked him again. Uncle Christopher screamed and his staff landed in the snow. With the last bit of strength I could muster, I flung my uncle. Through the North Pole air. Into the vortex. Spiraling toward the place to which he’d banished us hours earlier. I watched him grow smaller and smaller, spinning and somersaulting, until he was a tiny black dot. Then he disappeared. The vortex vanished. And I collapsed in exhaustion.

  I wanted to sleep, to rest for a thousand years. But Grandmother grabbed me roughly, pulling me to my feet. “Jump, Carol!” She’d made another portal. She dragged me into it.

  What are you doing? I screamed.

  Just hold on. She was protecting us from something, but what? We waited once again for what seemed like forever. I felt like I was drowning. I was so drained, so exhausted, I didn’t know if I would have the strength to kick my way back out once Grandmother said it was OK. At last she screamed, Now! I kicked feebly. Grandmother pulled me along. It seemed we’d never reach the portal opening. But we tumbled out, falling into the snow of the North Pole. Sebwe was still there, crying and holding his mother. Santa knelt beside him, embracing the sobbing boy. Some elves had returned, hugging and comforting each other. But there was no sign of Dad or Ray.

  “Why did you do that?” I asked Grandmother.

  “The same reason I pulled us in the first time your uncle changed history. To make sure we weren’t affected. Who knows how things wound up? Hopefully everything will be back to normal when we return home.”

  I looked around. “But where are Dad and Ray?”

  “I believe they returned to their time.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Everything your uncle changed was undone when you threw him into the vortex. All the things he would have done from 1851 on didn’t happen. Ray losing his parents and coming with us never happens. Your father being sent to the void and us pulling him out never happens. Ivan and Mr. Winters being captured never happens. If I’m right, they’ll all be back in their own time and won’t remember a thing.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “I can’t. But the fact that they vanished leads me to believe I’m right.”

  I hoped she was, of course. But my head spun. My uncle was indeed gone. I felt certain I’d sent him into the void, where I hoped he’d stay forever and could do no more harm. But if Dad and Ray had been lost, that would be a horrible price to pay for undoing the damage Uncle Christopher had inflicted on the world.

  Santa approached us with tears in his eyes. He motioned to some returning elves and they rushed over to help Sebwe and carry his mother away. The boy was inconsolable, sobbing and moaning. I felt awful for him. I wanted to hug him, to tell him things would eventually be OK. I wanted to tell him that his mother had saved not only us, but the entire world. “I’ll care for him, Carol,” Santa said, as if he could read my mind. “He’ll do as she asked him.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She told him to be good,” Santa said. “And he will be. I have great plans for him and others like him. He’ll help me spread joy and love around the world, and he’ll come to understand his mother’s sacrifice and draw strength from it.”

  “I want to tell him I’m sorry and say goodbye.”

  “You can’t,” Grandmother said. “Hard telling how much we’ve messed with the future already.”

  “She’s right, Carol,” Santa said. “You’ve set things back to the way they were, more or less. Best to leave it alone.”

  “Can I hug you at least?” I asked.

  Santa smiled. “Of course, Carol.” I fell into his arms. His embrace was warm and soft and I wanted it to go on forever. But Grandmother tapped me on the shoulder.

  “It’s time,” she said. Grandmother shimmered from her young self to the Ancient One. “Are you strong enough to get us back?”

  “I think so.” I truly was exhausted. But Santa’s embrace had invigorated me. Even his touch was magical.

  “And you can get us there?”

  “Yes.” I knew the secrets of time and space as well as the shimmering elf now. I knew how to get us home. What would await us there we could only guess.

  I gave Santa a final hug and he whispered, “Thank you, Carol.”

  “You’re welcome, Santa,” I said.

  I concentrated, drilling into time, into the future. I thought of Dad, sitting and chatting with Mr. Winters in Santa’s house. I thought of Grandmother’s cabin at the edge of the elf kingdom, a kingdom that surely would have been rebuilt 168 years from now. I thought of Santa, in all his magical glory, bringing joy to children everywhere. And after a final wave to the Big Guy, the Ancient One and I grabbed hands and stepped into the portal.

  Grandmother seemed to divide into two. She grimaced and screamed, but her younger self was left behind, collapsing into the snow. Noelle smiled at us and waved farewell. The Ancient One gripped me as we traveled through time. The world rushed by in a crazy blur. I caught a glimpse of Uncle Christopher. His eyes were closed like he was sleeping. He floated in his pocket of time, there for eternity. I felt guilty but shoved those thoughts aside. That was his prison for the evil he had perpetrated. And he was alive. He was safe. My love for him and Sebwe’s mother’s love for her son had spared him.

  When we emerged into the North Pole, I landed right on top of Grandmother in the snow. She grunted and muttered, “I’m getting too old for this nonsense.” She shimmered slightly, a tiny glimpse of her younger self, but then she was back to being the Ancient One. Maybe she would be OK. The shimmering elf had made nearly a hundred trips back in time to end up the way he was. Grandmother had gone only once.

  The elf kingdom stood just as we’d left it before Uncle Christopher changed everything. Elves slid down ice pathways, greeting each other in silence, their telepathic chatter filling my head. The great tree was intact, as were the houses and benches and sculptures. We turned and there stood Grandmother’s cabin, looking the same as ever. I nearly collapsed with relief.

  “Dad!” I shouted. “Santa!” And this time I didn’t just take off running to Santa’s house like a dope. I made a portal, right into the middle of Santa’s living room. I dove through, Grandmother calling after me. In my haste, I landed on the living room coffee table, which happened to be filled with a tray full of cookies, mugs of hot chocolate and coffee, and a cake. Drinks flew. Cookies were squashed. The cake made a sucking sound a
s my shoe went right through it. Mr. Winters sat on the chair in front of me and leaped to his feet, so shocked he fell backward and nearly landed in the crackling fire. Grandmother materialized next to him and helped him to his feet.

  “What in the world?” came a voice from behind me. “Angel Butt?” I turned. Dad, looking the same as ever, stared at me with utter confusion. I leaped off the table and into his arms, knocking him into his chair. I sobbed. He hugged me tight. I hugged him even tighter. “Carol, honey, what’s wrong?”

  “You’re OK,” I said. “You’re OK.”

  “Of course I’m OK,” he said, stroking my hair. “What is wrong with you? And why are you wearing that old dress?”

  I’d completely forgotten I had on the dress Elizabeth had given me. I pulled back and he wiped the tears from my cheeks. I noticed the wall of toys, filled once again with playthings from every era, a history of Santa’s joyful work. “Where’s Santa?” I asked. “Is he safe? He’s acting normal?”

  “What on Earth are you talking about, Carol?” Dad asked.

  Mr. Winters picked bits of cake and frosting from the front of his shirt. “I believe our young Defender has lost her marbles. Isn’t that right, m’lady?”

  I wanted to hug Mr. Winters, too. I wanted to laugh. But I needed to see Santa in the flesh. I needed to make sure he was all right. “Where is he?” I asked. There was no sign of Mrs. Claus either and that worried me. Did she exist? Had we accidentally changed the past and caused Santa to never meet his wife?

  “He’s outside,” Dad said.

  I pulled myself off of his lap. I had to see. But I backed into the coffee table, losing my balance, and landed butt first in what remained of the cake.

  “Goodness gracious, Carol!” Dad said, laughing. “What’s gotten into you?”

  “I need to see him,” I said desperately. “I need to see Santa.”

  The front door stood partially ajar. I jumped up, wiping frosting from the back of my dress. The door swung open. “I’m right here, Carol.” Santa Claus! I sprinted across the room and nearly tackled him. He laughed and hugged me tight. “I’m fine, dearest,” he whispered. “I’m perfectly fine. We all are, thanks to you.”

  I was sobbing again, looking like a fool in a weird antique dress. But I didn’t care. I was so relieved. So happy. After a long hug, I finally let Santa go. And when I did, Mrs. Claus was standing behind him. I launched myself into her arms next and she rocked me back and forth. “It’s OK, sweetie,” she said. “Everything’s OK.”

  That’s when I noticed the sculpture, on a table next to the door. My mouth dropped open. I pulled away from Mrs. Claus to get a closer look. Carved from white marble was a teenage boy, tall and handsome. His arms were wrapped around an older woman, who looked strong and noble and wore a beautiful, serene smile. “Sebwe,” I whispered. “Ruth.”

  “That’s right, Carol,” Santa said. “An eternal reminder of what they did for us.”

  I looked more closely. A metal plate at the bottom of the sculpture read, “Sebwe and Ruth, the First Defenders.” A tear formed in the corner of my eye. Of course Ruth was a Defender. She had defended us, Santa, and the entire world. She had sacrificed herself, and because of that, Sebwe fulfilled his destiny. I felt proud to have known them.

  Santa motioned to Dad and Mr. Winters. “They’re here,” Santa said. Dad and Mr. Winters crossed the living room, stepping carefully through spilled drinks and smashed sweets. Elves had materialized, liked they always seemed to do when work needed to be done, and were cleaning up the mess.

  “Who’s here?” I asked.

  Santa’s eyes twinkled. “Oh, just a couple of new recruits. Let’s welcome them to the North Pole.” Santa nudged me backward. Dad wrapped his arm around my shoulders. Mr. Winters wiped frosting from the tip of his nose and winked at me, sucking the sweetness from his finger with a loud slurp. Santa stepped away from the door. “Come on in,” he called.

  No one appeared for a moment but I heard whispers, urgent and unsure. And a woman’s voice said, “Go on, mi’jo. It’ll be fine.” That voice sounded familiar but I couldn’t place it. In stepped two boys. I nearly fainted. Then I let out a yelp of joy. Ray and Ivan-I-Am-Not stood before us, blinking in the light, side by side, as if joined at the hip. They looked confused and frightened. Especially after I knocked them both to the floor with a ferocious hug.

  “You’re safe! You’re safe!” I squeezed them tight, crying yet again. Neither of them pushed me away, letting me hug them, maybe afraid of what I might do if they didn’t.

  “What is happening, Mr. Santa?” Ivan-I-Am-Not shouted. Grandmother had been right. Ivan-I-Am-Not and Ray didn’t know me. They wouldn’t recall any of what we’d done together. We undid all of my uncle’s changes, so none of it technically ever happened. But I didn’t care. I remembered. And I hugged them even tighter.

  Santa laughed. A genuine, honest-to-goodness “Ho, ho, ho!”

  “Just get used to it, boys,” Santa said. “Things are always a little crazy around here.”

  I finally let Ray and Ivan-I-Am-Not up. Well, to be more accurate, Dad picked me up around the waist and lifted me off them. “What is happening with you, Carol?”

  “It’s OK,” Santa said. “She has her reasons.”

  Dad looked at me questioningly but said nothing more. He had learned to trust Santa, even when things didn’t make a lot of sense.

  A light knock on the door grabbed my attention from the boys, who were dusting themselves off, as if trying to wipe away my nuttiness.

  An attractive young couple stood in the doorway. It took me a second to realize who they were. The last I’d seen the man, he was lying in his front yard as the snow fell around him. And the last I’d seen her, she was being thrown into the back of a vehicle on the streets of Washington Heights. Ray’s mom and dad! Another man and woman stood behind Santa, who spoke to them in a language I didn’t recognize. Ivan-I-Am-Not’s parents, I guessed.

  I hesitated for just a moment but then thought, heck, why not? Everyone already thought I was losing it. I broke free of Dad and ran to the parents, giving them each a huge hug. They laughed, looking a little confused, but hugged me back. I pulled away and looked them in the eye. “You should be so proud of your boys,” I said. “They saved . . .” Grandmother cleared her throat pointedly. “They’re incredibly brave.”

  Santa translated for Ivan-I-Am-Not’s parents. They smiled and nodded their thanks. Dad gently pulled me away. “You’ll have to excuse my daughter. She’s not herself today.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that,” Santa said cheerily. “Carol’s never anything if not herself. Everyone, I’d like to introduce our newest Defenders, Ray and Ivan.”

  The boys gave shy little waves. Their parents puffed up with pride. Santa beamed. Everyone clapped. I stepped back into Dad’s embrace and let his love envelop me. I thought about what Santa had said to my uncle when he was so consumed with hate, when he wanted to destroy us, the only people who had ever cared about him: “Love is a power as great as the universe itself.” And I felt sad that Uncle Christopher couldn’t see that, couldn’t feel the kind of love we shared in this room.

  And now there were two new people in my life to love and protect. I knew them and loved them already, even if they had no idea who I was and had no memory of what we’d accomplished together.

  From that day forward, we would stand side by side as Defenders of Claus, protecting Santa and helping him spread joy throughout the world. And we would be friends forever, I just knew it. Because love—through time and space, through death and sorrow, through everything that can go wrong in our fragile lives—love always finds a way.

  Acknowledgments

  I could fill a whole book attempting to thank the people who’ve helped me realize my writing dreams. Creating a book is a solitary exercise, but no author makes the journey alone.

  First off is my son, Tyler, who’s sixteen now and way too old for my books but nonetheless is the reason I write them
. He was eight when I asked him, “Would you like Daddy to write you a story?” He got excited, then I got excited and the rest is history.

  My wife, Geovanny, has been nothing but supportive, and I’m grateful she never once has made an issue of how much of my time writing and publishing demands. Our pilot son Richard “took” Carol with him on his flights across the country when the first book came out. I’m so proud of him.

  None of what I do would be possible without my parents, Bill and Jodi Fouch, who instilled in me the confidence and the work ethic required to be a writer. And my Christmas-obsessed Mom, of course, is the reason I chose to write about the magic of Santa. My brother, Todd, and his family are always in my corner. And according to my niece, Tierra, I’m her “second-favorite author.” High praise indeed.

  I’m also grateful to my Dominican family, in particular my mother-in-law, Lidia, who never fails to spoil me with rice and beans. Gracias! A special thanks to Shirleysa, whose love for the first book warms my heart. I feel like an honorary Dominican, which is why their wonderful culture finds its way into my stories.

  I’m forever in debt to my agent, Jennifer Unter, who’s always there when I need her (which is way too often). My editor at Sky Pony, Nicole Frail, has been unwavering in her enthusiasm and has guided me through some rough waters. I’d also like to thank my previous editors, Bethany Buck and Becky Herrick, who helped bring Carol to life. And a huge thanks to Sky Pony for sending Carol out into the world.