Free Jolly Dead St. Nicholas by Carol A. Guy Page A

into large blue eyes. Close behind him was a harried looking mother. “So sorry. He’s really excited.”
    Adelaide squatted down so she was eye level with the child. “Santa will be here very soon. I’ll bet you can’t wait, huh?”
    Each year, Jerry Hatfield played Santa at a party for less fortunate children that included games, treats and gifts. Parents were required to register their child by Thanksgiving Day for attendance. Toys were donated by the entire community and some were purchased by the churches. This year, in spite of the hard economic times, the citizens of Crescent Falls had come through with a bountiful harvest of gifts.
    “Tell you what, why don’t you go to that room right there,” Adelaide pointed toward the nursery, “and play with the other children while your Mommy shops? You’ll have fun, I guarantee it,”
    “Can I go to play with the other kids, Mommy? Please? Just don’t let me miss Santa.”
    Throwing Adelaide a grateful look, the young mother took her son’s hand, rushing off in the direction of the nursery.
    “You’re a natural-born grandmother,” Vernon said from just behind her.
    Adelaide didn’t quite feel ready for that. “When the time is right, I know I’ll spoil my grandchildren rotten.”
    “That might happen sooner than you think, Addy,” Vernon said.
    She felt a gnawing in her mid-section. “Do you know something I don’t?”
    Vernon smiled widely. “Not likely.” He winked at her as he turned and walked away. “I think I’ll do some Christmas shopping,” he called over his shoulder.
    “Men!” Adelaide scoffed.
     

Chapter Nine
     
     
    “It’s quarter to three, where’s Santa?” Carl Henshaw asked Adelaide.
    “Don’t fret. Jerry…I mean Santa …will be here soon,” Ethel told him. Then to Adelaide, “He’s like a little kid, I swear.”
    Santa was scheduled to arrive in the social hall at two-thirty, where he would pass out the gifts to the children after which there would be games and other activities. As he did every year, Jerry Hatfield had slipped away to change into his costume in the church balcony, since the sanctuary was off limits to visitors during the bazaar.
    Parents with their children in tow had begun arriving around two-fifteen. “The young ones are getting restless. Has anyone seen him?” Adelaide asked. She glanced around the room where dozens of children wiggled restlessly in chairs while others wallowed on the floor, impatiently awaiting St. Nicholas’s arrival.
     
    * * * *
     
    Running late as usual, Hester Ryan entered the church at two-forty. Her eight-year-old daughter, Alise, ran along the main hallway toward the sanctuary instead of going down to the basement where the bazaar was being held.
    “This way, Alise!” Hester called. Alise either didn’t hear her or pretended not to, Hester wasn’t sure which. In any event, she followed the child, intent on steering her in the right direction.
    Hester saw Alise open one of the double doors leading to the sanctuary. “Don’t go in there! Come back here at once.”
    “Look, there’s a big Christmas tree in there, Mommy! Let’s go look at it,” Alise called as she skipped down the aisle. The door began to close behind her.
    Hester followed her daughter. “Always going her own way, never listening.” She looked around, taking in the poinsettias lining the alter rail. She wasn’t familiar with the inside of this church, since her family attended St. Mark’s Lutheran across from the high school. “Come on, Alise, you don’t want to miss Santa.”
    Hester stopped short at the sight of Alise staring at something in one of the pews. Her face was screwed up in a frown.
    Hurrying to the child, she saw why Alise was perplexed. “What is that, strawberry syrup?” She stared at the crimson puddle on the seat. No, that wasn’t right. She raised her eyes then gasped.
    Alise looked up also. “Look Mommy, Santa is asleep.”
    Hester felt her mouth go dry and her pulse