Santas secret, p.1
Santa's Secret, page 1
Santa’s Secret
JA ARMSTRONG
Copyright © 2023 by Bumbling Bard Creations
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Epilogue
Chapter
One
JUNE 2023
MAGDA’S VIEW
Everyone thinks they know Santa Claus. The Santa they know lived about a thousand years ago. He was my great, great, great, great, great—about eighty greats grandfather. There’ve been loads of Santas since he lived. There’s a painting in my mom’s office of him that Eli’s great, great, great—well, a lot of greats grandfather painted. Oh. Sorry. Eli is Mom’s secretary. He’s an elf. But not like the elves you see in movies. He doesn’t have pointy ears or anything like that. He has magic. Elves live a long time—for hundreds of years. They have more magic than humans. Their magic helps Santa and lets Santa live longer than an average human. But Santa is still human. Santa is passed down to the next generation of Klauses. One day, that will be me. For now, it’s my mom.
We moved here when I was two because Grandpa retired. Grandpa stopped being Santa because his arthritis acts up in the cold—that’s what Grandma told me. I don’t remember when my mom wasn’t Santa. I remember when she wasn’t lonely. I had another mom when I was little, but I haven’t visited her in a few years. She calls and sends me letters but moved back to the United States when I was five. She didn’t like where we live now—that’s what I heard Mom tell Grandma. I guess it’s too cold and too dull. “Nature has its limits,” that’s what I heard Mom tell Grandma.
Most people think Santa lives in the North Pole. It makes for a good story, but The North Pole moves. Santa hasn’t moved for over five hundred years. Our house is next door to my grandparents’ home in Qeqertarsuaq—that’s in Greenland. I’m not sure why my other mom didn’t like it here. I’ve traveled with Mom and my grandparents to Denmark, Germany, and Florida a few times. They were all interesting places, but I think where we live is the most beautiful place, and the people here are the nicest. I wouldn’t want to live anywhere else.
Mom says she’s too busy to be lonely. And she is busy. Her job isn’t quite what it was centuries ago. She gripes a lot about how kids spend too much time in front of screens. And people pay too much attention to social media instead of spending time together. We have a television, and Mom lets me play some video games, but I spend most of my time outside with my best friend, Ben. His dad is a scientist at the Danish research center. He doesn’t know my mom is Santa. I don’t even think he believes in Santa. Mom says that’s okay. Santa’s magic will work if even one person believes. I wish it would work to bring Mom what she wants the most. She needs someone to love besides me, Grandpa, Grandma, Eli, and Astrid. There aren’t a lot of people where we live—or elves. And Mom doesn’t have much time to travel unless it’s for work. Plus, I think she’s afraid anyone she meets will decide they don’t like living here. Here’s my dilemma—I can’t write to Santa for Mom because my mom is Santa. So, what do I do? I need to call in the expert!
“Magda.”
“Hi, Eli.”
“Now, what has you sneaking around your mother’s office this morning?”
“I’m not sneaking.”
“Magda?”
“I’m not sneaking, Eli.” I pull out a chair and plop onto it. “Where’s Mom?”
“Something tells me you know where your mother is,” Eli says. “Now, out with it. What brings you here?”
I can never fool Eli. I’m not sure if this is that Elven magic thing or if he’s just really smart. Mom went with Grandpa to the workshop. That’s in Pituffik, close to the actual North Pole and not too far from a military base. Grandpa said it’s a good thing Mom has magic to help her, because governments can be just as blind as they are stupid, and someone might think the sleigh is a missile.
“Magda?” Eli calls for my attention again. “You know perfectly well your mother went for the night to the workshop. Now, what brings you here?”
“Do you think Mom is happy?”
Eli frowns. “What do you mean?”
I don’t think it’s a hard question, and it isn’t a trick. I guess Eli relies more on his magic than his smarts. Or maybe this is that thing adults do. You know what I’m talking about. When they ask you a question, and they already know the answer? Why do they do that?
“Magda?”
“I mean, does Mom seem happy? I think she’s lonely.”
“Missing your other mom?” Eli asks.
I shrug. My mother and grandparents ask me this question all the time. Do I miss my other mom? They don’t believe me when I tell them I don’t. I think about her sometimes and like talking to her when she calls, but I don’t miss her. She’s been gone for a long time. She lives in Florida. I like the beach and have fun at Disneyworld when I visit, but it’s too crowded, loud, and hot for me to live there. “No,” I tell him.
Eli nods.
“This isn’t about me,” I tell him. “Mom is lonely. No offense.”
Eli laughs. “None taken,” he assures me.
I groan. “She needs a friend—a special friend.”
Eli laughs harder. “Magda, are you trying to play matchmaker?”
I shrug. “No. I mean, I don’t have anyone in mind for Mom. It’s not like I can write to Santa and ask for someone special to find Mom.”
“That might be a bit problematic,” Eli replies. “Say a prayer.”
“A prayer?” I sigh. “I think God has bigger things to worry about.”
“Do you?”
“Sure. Like wars and missiles, and hungry people. Stuff like that.”
My mom always tells me that people misunderstand who Santa is and how Santa came to be. It makes her nuts when people say Santa is commercial and has nothing to do with Christmas. Santa’s mission isn’t about shiny new toys or rewards—Santa is meant to bring hope. The idea that there is a person who spends his or her time fulfilling the wishes of the world’s most innocent population spars hope and joy. And hope and joy are the best ways to create peace. She says people can ask Santa for stuff. Prayers are meant for bigger things, like peace.
Eli nods. “Do you know why God created magic?”
I shake my head.
“But you know why there is a Santa Claus.”
“To bring hope,” I say.
“Ah. Yes. And nothing makes people more hopeful than having love—every kind of love.”
“I don’t think Mom would like me asking for her.”
“Oh, your mother would be grateful to know you’re thinking about her happiness.”
“Do you think so?”
Eli winks at me. “Magda, your mom works hard.”
“Yeah. And she worries about and thinks about everybody else. All. The. Time.”
“Mm. That’s who she is.”
“You mean because she’s Santa.”
“No,” Eli says. “I mean, that’s who Charlotte is. She’s always been that way—even as a little girl. Not every person who becomes Santa is meant for the job. Some do it grudgingly. Some pass it to their sibling.” Eli sighs. “One day, someone will decide it doesn’t matter anymore.”
“You mean someday there will be no more Santa?”
“We’ve made it for centuries, Magda. The world has changed. People don’t believe in magic as they once did. I pray they find the magic again.”
“I just wish Mom could find someone to be with—you know?”
“I do. So? Say a little prayer, Magda. Someone is always listening if you speak from your heart.”
“Do you really believe that?”
“I know it.”
PITUFFIK, GREENLAND
“You’ve been quiet all day.”
Charlotte smiled. “I’m sorry, Dad.”
“Don’t be sorry. Do you want to tell me what’s on your mind?”
“Does Magda seem okay to you?”
“Why do you ask?”
“I’m not sure. She’s been—quiet.”
“And you think she’s missing Fiona?” Adam Klaus asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t project your feelings on Magda.”
“Is that what you think I’m doing?”
“I think it gets lonely here for you. It always has.”
“Dad.”
“I shouldn’t have let your mother talk me into retirement so soon,” Adam said.
Charlotte clasped Adam’s hand. “You needed to step back, Dad.”
“At the expense of your happiness?”
“I’m happy.”
Adam shook his head. It broke his heart when Charlotte’s partner, Fiona, left Charlotte and Magda to return to The States. Charlotte met Fiona when she was in college in Florida. She wanted to experience the world away from Santa’s tasks and culture and opted to study Aerospace Engineering at Embry Riddle University. She spent more than a decade teaching students about propulsion. Adam and his wife, Emma, wanted Charlotte to explore the world before she was called to serve her term as the world’s Santa Claus.
Adam had been the world’s Santa Claus for over four decades, b eginning just a few months after Charlotte was born. He’d hoped to continue until Magda finished school, but even magic couldn’t cure the swelling in his hands. Tending to the reindeer, sled dogs, and workshop became difficult and painful. Orders to the workshop had been steadily declining for decades. There weren’t as many toys for Santa to deliver on Christmas Eve, and that meant most of the elves had moved on to other places. The pain in Adam’s hands slowed his productivity, and he didn’t have enough support staff left to maintain the workshop and office on his own.
Charlotte greeted her mother’s request to return home happily. Fiona arrived expecting an adventure in Greenland. She became disillusioned when she realized that all the magic in the universe didn’t make Greenland tropical or replace the need for hard work. Charlotte couldn’t blame her former partner. Greenland was a far cry from the warmth of Florida. But Fiona’s departure hurt Charlotte, and she worried about its impact on Magda. Magda rolled with the change. She shed a few tears and asked occasionally when her other mother would return. But Magda had adjusted to Fiona’s absence quickly.
“You’re lonely, Charlotte. This job isn’t meant for a single person.” Adam held up his hand to warn Charlotte not to interrupt. “We’ve all had a partner to support us.”
“I have you and Mom, Eli, and Astrid. And how did my question about Magda lead to my supposed loneliness?”
“Don’t you think Magda can tell you’re lonely?”
Charlotte sighed. She tried not to let Magda see her worry or loneliness. “I wish she wouldn’t worry about me.”
Adam laughed—a hearty, full-throated belly laugh.
“Why is that funny?”
“She’s your daughter.”
“Yes. I know.”
“Not worry?” A giant ho-ho-ho that began at Adam’s toes passed through his lips. “Oh, Charlotte. You’ve been worried about the whole world since you were in your mother’s womb. Of course, she worries about you!”
“I’m happy here, Dad. I enjoyed living in Florida. It was never home.”
“Everyone needs someone to call home, sweetheart.”
Charlotte smiled. She loved living back in Greenland, but it could feel lonely. “I have more than one someone, Dad. I have you, Mom, Eli, Astrid, a team of devoted elves, and Magda to keep me company. Now, come on. Dasher still prefers you to me.”
“He’ll come around.”
“I guess we’ll see.”
Chapter
Two
JULY
MAGDA'S VIEW
I love playing football. Me and Ben spend loads of time at the football pitch. You can see the icebergs while you play. And sometimes, you can see whales breaching the water. Who has that view?
"So, who is your dad bringing to the research center?" I ask.
Ben's dad is a marine biologist. He often lets us come with him to watch for whales. It's one of my favorite things to do. Today, his dad went to Ilulissat to pick up a new scientist. It's always a big deal when someone new comes to the island to stay. Most visitors only stay a few days to hike. We only have one hotel, and it has the only restaurant on the island. Qeqertarsuaq isn’t a tourist hub like Orlando or Daytona. I like meeting people when they visit, but some of them can be a little—annoying. Sometimes, they find it hard to understand why anyone would choose to live here all year. I could ask the same thing about New York City or Tokyo. Why would anyone want to live in all the noise? I prefer the cold to noise. And I think icebergs are more interesting than skyscrapers.
Ben shrugs. "I don't know,” he says. “Some Irish scientist who specializes in volcanic rocks and stuff. That's all my dad told me."
I pick up our ball and see my mom headed toward us. She waves.
"Your mom has been traveling a lot lately," Ben says.
"Yeah. She has a lot to do before winter," I tell him. My mom is an expert on propulsion systems for airplanes and spacecraft. She still works as a consultant for some companies. Most people think our family works in distribution. And we do. No one has more expertise in logistics than Santa. For centuries, our family has worked to bring essential goods to the Greenlandic people and to bring their goods to the rest of the world. That happens all year. Christmas is only a tiny part of the Klaus enterprise.
"Kids," Mom says.
"Hi, Mom."
"How are you, Ben?" Mom asks.
"I'm good."
"How was your soccer match?" Mom asks.
I roll my eyes. Mom always calls it soccer. She spent too many years living in the United States. "We didn't have enough people today," I explain. "So, we practiced."
"Practice is important," she says.
"I thought you were working?" I ask.
"I finished early. I invited Ben's family and our newest resident for dinner this evening. I thought the time off might also give me a chance to see you play. I'll settle for taking a walk with you.”
Ben grins. I think he has a crush on my mom. Weird.
"Did my dad tell you anything about the new researcher?" Ben asks.
Mom leads us up the hill. "Not much. I just know his name is Dr. Rowan McCarthy, and he's coming to study the volcanic landscape. That's about all your dad said."
"I wonder what he's like. I mean, the last guy they sent was cool," Ben says.
The last researcher stayed for nine months. He was a graduate student studying sea life. Ben liked him a lot because he loved football and had played in college. Sometimes, I think Ben feels a little restless here. He's lived here since he was three, but he visits Copenhagen with his parents a few times a year and talks about going to university there someday. I understand. I will probably go to university somewhere in Europe, too. Ben says he wants to design ships. He loves boats. But that's his fallback plan. He really wants to be a football player. I'm not sure that's a realistic goal for someone living in Greenland.
"Maybe this researcher will like soccer, too," Mom says.
"I hope he has more to talk about than rocks and sand," Ben says.
Mom laughs. She puts an arm around each of us. "I'm sure he does."
Not much surprises me. And I know it's hard to surprise my mom. All our jaws dropped when Ben's dad walked through the door with Dr. McCarthy. He left out an important fact. Dr. McCarthy is a woman—a really pretty woman. Ben noticed. I'm pretty sure my mom noticed, too—not only that Dr. McCarthy is a woman—that she's an attractive woman.
"Not who you expected," Dr. McCarthy says.
Mom smiles. "Not quite."
"Someone taller?"
Mom winks. "Taller—yes."
Dr. McCarthy holds out her hand to my mom. "Rowan," she introduces herself.
"Charlotte," Mom says. "This is my daughter, Magda."
I offer the stranger a small wave. "Hi."
Rowan McCarthy smiles at me, and I can't help but notice her piercing blue eyes. She has long, flowing hair the color of caramel, and her smile reveals teeth as white as the icebergs floating just beyond the football pitch. She's beautiful.
Ben steps up and holds out his hand. "I'm Ben. Dr. Jensen's son."
I can't help myself and roll my eyes. Ben is two years older than me. Sometimes, he thinks he's twenty-four instead of fourteen. One thing I know. He likes girls. There are girls who go to school with us, but only a few our age. Agpa, Signe, and Keerta are all thirteen, and Maline is fourteen. There is Gertrud. She's seventeen. But she only rolls her eyes when Ben looks at her. Ben's mom must also see the look in his eyes because she clears her throat.
"All right, now that we're all properly introduced," Mrs. Jensen says.
I like Ben's mom. Her name is Heidi, and she's from Denmark, like Ben's dad, Erik.
"Well, let's not all stand around," Mom says. "Have a seat. Magda? Would you and Ben grab the bottle of wine I left in the kitchen and the cheese plate from the refrigerator?"
"Sure."
Ben follows me into the kitchen. "We've been dismissed," he says.
"Nah. They probably want to give Dr. McCarthy a break from your ogling."
"What are you talking about, Magda?"
