In Any Reindeer Games

part two

*******

Chloe stood half-hidden behind John. She still wasn’t convinced that her grandfather really liked her. He hardly ever came to visit them. In fact, this was only the third time she could ever remember seeing him. John tried to pull her in front of him but she planted her feet and he eventually gave up.

"Dad," her mom was saying. "This is John Grant. He’s part of the VCTF, too. Violent Crimes Task Force," she added. Chloe thought grandpa should know what it stood for, but maybe he didn’t. As John stepped forward to shake his hand she could see that he looked a little nervous, too. Maybe grandpa did that to everybody?

"Chloe?" her mom said. "Come say hello to your grandfather."

"I believe you get taller every time I see you, young lady."

She frowned. It had been six months. Of course, she was taller. John tried to nudge her forward again and this time she let him.

"Hello," she said. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," he replied. "I understand that children usually get presents this time of year. Would you object if I brought you something?"

Chloe shook her head, not really sure what he was asking. It sounded sort of like he had brought her a present, but she couldn’t really tell. When he pulled a teddy bear from behind his back she knew that her guess had been right.

She looked at the present skeptically. She thought she might be getting a little old for bears, but it was kind of cute. Her grandfather actually looked sort of nervous. Did everybody worry about what they gave to anybody else? She guessed they must. If he worried about her maybe he really did like her. She smiled at the bear then hugged her grandfather tightly.

"I like him a whole lot," she said. "Thank you very much." She thought she might have heard John mumble "beary much". She saw her mom poke him with her elbow and he didn’t say anything else. Grandpa didn’t seem to notice. He only smiled at Chloe.

"Dad, we were just getting ready to start dinner," her mom said. "You will stay, won't you?"

He looked like he might be about to say no so Chloe grabbed his hand. He looked down at her and nodded. "I think I'd like that," he said.

Her next worry was John. He looked like he was about to leave, too. "Sam, I should..." he began.

"Stay," her mom finished. "You should stay." She saw that her mom had put her hand around John’s wrist. He looked down at it, too.

"Twist my arm," he said. Chloe thought it was a strange thing to say, but John and her mom both smiled. She guessed that meant he was staying.

*********

John sat across from Dr. Anderson and tried not to fidget. He was glad for Sam and Chloe’s sake that Sam’s dad had come, but part of him jealously wished it had remained just the three of them. The easy relaxation of the afternoon had vanished into awkward tension. Dr. Anderson didn’t seem to be the type to hang out on the floor playing games. At dinner Sam and Chloe carried most of the conversation, entertaining Dr. Anderson with stories mostly about Chloe. For his part, John tried to keep his mouth shut, more than half-convinced that anything he said would embarrass Sam.

"John takes me ice-skating," Chloe was saying. "He’s a good teacher. He tried to teach Mom, but she... um, needs more practice."

John’s face twitched into a grin at Chloe’s diplomatic attempt to explain her mother’s complete lack of ability. He tried to hide his smile; uncertain of how Sam’s father would take it. Dr. Anderson looked at him intently.

"So, John, how long have you and Samantha been dating?"

Sam launched into a coughing fit as John strangled on a swallow of tea. Chloe answered for them.

"They’re not really. Mom’s sort of dating Uncle Coop. And John used to date Angel but she says he couldn’t keep a goldfish in a boat, so they broke up."

John fervently wished there were a nice brick wall he could slam his head into. He had absolutely no idea what Chloe was talking about but it really didn’t look good. Goldfish in a boat?

*******

William Anderson realized immediately that he had made an error. Perhaps not in judgement, for he was positive he had read the situation correctly. But his error lay in speaking. Whatever they chose to admit, he had no doubt that John Grant was far more than he appeared to be. He felt a certain resentment toward the younger man. It had been obvious to him from the moment he walked into the apartment that John was more a part of this family than he was. From Chloe’s stories it was clear that there was an easy rapport between the three of them and it was plain upon his granddaughter’s face that she loved him without reservation. There were reservations on his daughter’s face, but strong affection was there as well. She was protective and more than slightly fond of this fellow, whether she wanted to admit it or not.

He couldn’t begrudge the fact that John seemed to be making Sam and Chloe happy. He could be jealous, though. It’s my own fault, he realized. Too much work, not enough time. Chloe was growing up so fast. He was missing her childhood much as he had missed most of Sam’s and he wasn’t sure what to do about it. It pained him to see the uncertainty on Chloe’s face when she spoke to him. Still, there were moments when she seemed almost ready to accept him. If only there was more time...

He sat awkwardly in the living room, alone, as they cleared the table. After a moment Chloe appeared hesitantly in the doorway.

"Do you want to see what I got for Christmas?" she asked him.

She led him to the Christmas tree. He had no choice but to sit on the floor beside her. She sorted through the pile of gifts. Most of them were from her mother or Angel. He was glad Sammy had at least one good friend. It had been a difficult few years. He looked up at the sound of quickly stifled laughter from the kitchen. At least two good friends, he amended. Chloe gave him a lopsided smile as if she knew what he was thinking. She reminded him so much of Sam.

"John’s pretty funny sometimes," she told him. She pulled a large box toward them. "These skates are from him. He plays hockey." She leaned forward conspiratorially. "If Mom will let us he might teach me how to play, too."

He didn’t think that hockey was a very good idea for a seven-year-old girl but he was honored that she would confide in him. The rest of Chloe’s presents seemed to be from various "aunts" and "uncles". He recognized the name of Bailey and assumed that the other adopted relatives were Sam’s co-workers, as well. It was odd, he thought, that John wasn’t an honorary uncle. He was simply John.

There were also several gifts from Chloe’s other grandparents. A sweater. A toy horse. A game. She was obviously fond of them. He wasn’t. He had heard how they tried to take her from Sammy. Unforgivable, he thought. Selfish and impractical. The child had already lost her father. The fools had wanted to take her from her mother. Ridiculous. Still, Chloe spoke of them with affection. He doubted she would do the same of him.

He rose stiffly as Sam and John came into the living room. He was surprised when Chloe slipped quickly under his arm to assist. She looked as if she wanted to join John and her mother on the sofa, but instead she settled on the arm of his chair. It was bad for the chair, but it wasn’t his place to correct her. And he rather liked having her close, he realized.

"Chloe, why don’t you take some of your presents to your room?" Sam said.

Chloe looked torn but stood and began picking up boxes.

"Here, Chlo," John volunteered. "Let me give you a hand."

William watched the two of them carefully balance most of the gifts between them and head for Chloe’s room.

"Sammy," he began. He felt ridiculous apologizing for something when he knew he wasn’t wrong. But if it made his daughter feel better, perhaps it was the least he could do. "If I made any assumptions… When I saw that it was just the three of you…"

She smiled. "It’s okay, Dad. It’s …" She shrugged. "It’s okay. John doesn’t have much family of his own. He fits in pretty well with us."

He knew she probably didn’t mean it as a criticism, but it felt like one anyway. "He seems like a decent young man."

"He is," she smiled. "He’s one of the good guys."

"Chloe seems… rather attached to him."

"She is."

"And you?" He had to ask. She avoided looking at him as she answered. She could never lie to him directly.

"He’s a good friend, Dad." She raised her head. "He’s a friend."

Perhaps that much was true. But half-truths… His train of thought was interrupted as Chloe rushed back in.

"Have to get my bear!" She scooped up the stuffed animal from the sofa then came to stand beside his chair. "Thank you very much. I’m going to put him on my bed." He was startled when she spontaneously hugged him. He barely had time to raise his arms in return before she darted away again.

"She’s a delightful child, Samantha." He looked after her as she left then turned back to his daughter. He knew she hadn’t learned her parenting skills from him. He wished he could tell her how proud he was of her. Maybe she knew. Probably she knew. He stood. "It’s time for me to be going. Thank you for inviting me."

"Dad, you know you’re welcome here any time."

He nodded and gathered his coat.

"Merry Christmas, Dad," she called to him as the elevator door closed.

*******

She watched the door close. He always seems so distant, she thought. But he is trying. He did come today.

"Where’s your dad?" John walked into the living room and looked around.

Sam shook her head to clear it. "He said he had to go."

"Well, I think you’ve earned your merit badge for the year." John grinned at her confusion. "Taking in all us poor, socially challenged souls on major holidays." He stopped and gave her a puzzled look of his own. "So, what was that about Angel and goldfish?"

Sam reddened and looked away. Chloe should have known better than to repeat things that she shouldn’t have heard in the first place. "I didn't know she had heard that. It’s not…" Her blush deepened. This had not been a conversation that John should ever hear. "I think what Angel said… was that you couldn't commit to a goldfish… much less a real relationship."

"Oh." He scuffed at the wooden floor with his shoe. "That’s not entirely true," he said lightly. "I may not have fish, but I do have a long-term relationship with some of the things growing in my refrigerator. They’re organic. That should count for something."

Sam smiled in response to his weak attempt at humor, but she could tell that Angel’s assessment bothered him. She was glad Chloe hadn’t repeated some of the other things Angel had said that night. She hadn’t agreed with many of the criticisms Angel had voiced, but then again, she had never tried to date John. She had admitted to Angel that maybe he was different when the situation was personal, not professional. Maybe Angel saw one side of him and she saw another. She thought about the afternoon she had just spent playing games with him in the floor and knew that now she would have to disagree. She looked up as he continued speaking.

"Thanks for inviting me today, Sam. It’s been great." He ducked his head self-consciously. "I… I haven’t had a Christmas like this in a long time."

"I’m glad you came." She smiled at him. "Haven’t we had this conversation before?"

He smiled in return and stepped back toward the elevator. He looked up as something brushed the top of his head. Mistletoe.

"Let me guess," he said with a grin. "Chloe’s idea?"

She nodded. "She said we had to have it. It’s tradition."

"Well, you know it would be bad luck to break the tradition."

"I’d never heard that it was bad luck," she teased. Something in his face, however, told her that he wasn’t teasing.

"Humor me," he said softly.

As she looked up into his clear, serious eyes she couldn’t think of a single reason not to. It was their first kiss without an audience. No thought of Jack, no memory of Coop entered her mind as John’s lips brushed hers. She closed her eyes and leaned against him as he carefully folded his arms around her. He needs to shave, she thought in amusement as her fingers traced over his jaw. They both jumped as the phone rang.

"Just my luck," John muttered. But Sam didn’t move to step away from him immediately. She stood frozen in his arms, her hand on his shoulder, trying to memorize the moment. The phone rang again and she reluctantly turned to answer it. John remained standing by the elevator.

"Hello?" She wasn’t entirely successful at keeping the irritation out of her voice.

"Hey, Sammy! Merry Christmas! You wouldn’t believe how much I miss you."

Sam threw a troubled glance at John. She knew he could read in her face who was on the other end of the line. She watched the unhappiness leap to his eyes before he shut down all emotion with a practiced ease. She shook her head helplessly and motioned for him to step back into the living room to wait. His face had gone almost completely blank. Only Sam’s discerning eye could see the faint signs of hidden pain. Coop’s voice continued to babble cheerfully in her ear as she tried to carry on a silent conversation with John across the room. She hoped he could see that she wanted him to stay, that she wanted to talk, but his stiff stance and subtly betrayed expression showed no indication that this was the message he was getting.

"Coop, hold on just a minute," she interrupted whatever it was he had been saying. "I’ll be right back." She set the phone down on the desk and looked back in time to see the elevator door closing. She bit her lip in frustration and turned to the monitor. It was still tuned to the elevator camera and she watched John slump against the back wall. His eyes were closed and he shook his head slowly; a small, resigned motion. As the car reached the garage she saw him lean over to pick up the picture. His fingers lightly traced the frame. He tucked the picture under his arm and squared his shoulders. He still had to walk past the agents on duty. As he disappeared from view Sam realized that her fingers were pressed against the screen where his image had been. She stared at the empty car for a long moment until Coop’s tinny voice distracted her.

She turned her head to stare at the waiting phone. She could hear Coop calling her name; a vague, distant sound. Without really thinking about it she picked up the handset and placed it back in its cradle. In the same subconscious vein she picked the phone up again and dialed the number of John’s cell phone. It rang four times before the polite recorded voice told her that the party she was trying to contact was out of range. She moved to the window to watch him walk across the parking lot next door.

His shoulders were hunched against a coldness that had nothing to do with the mild Georgia winter. She knew he wouldn’t answer if he called his home phone later either. She had no clear idea of what had just happened. It had seemed like such a simple kiss, yet now something seemed terribly wrong and she wasn’t sure what had changed. Part of her knew that if she wanted to pretend that this scene beneath the mistletoe had never happened John would let it go. He had too much pride… and too much fear… to ever mention it again. Part of her wasn’t sure if she wanted to let it go.

As the phone rang again she absently answered it. She half-heartedly assured Coop that everything was fine and hung up on him as soon as she could. In a little while, though she knew it was hopeless, she called John’s apartment and listened to the busy signal. She didn’t know what she would have said to him if he had answered. At last she picked up the music box from the coffee table and slowly walked to the kitchen. She fixed herself a cup of hot cocoa. Almost as an afterthought she pulled out the box of Lucky Charms and topped the cocoa with little marshmallow bits. She sat down at the table and wound the music box again. The soft, vaguely familiar tune filled the small kitchen. Why do holidays with John always seem to end so badly, she wondered?

********

John stared at his phone. It was off the hook. It had been off the hook all night. Part of him wanted to hang it up and see if it would ring. Part of him was afraid it wouldn’t if he did. He left it where it was. He would rather not know than be proved dreadfully right. His eyes were drawn to the photo on the coffee table. Things are so much simpler with kids, he thought. You always know exactly where you stand with them. If they love you, you can’t pry them off. If they’re mad at you, the entire shopping mall knows about it. But, Sam… He never knew. Even when he thought he had it figured out… It just didn’t work. He didn’t know why he thought it would. What could she possibly see in him? A street cop? A sharpshooter with a tendency toward getting shot? Now, that was endearing. The guy who hung out with her daughter? She probably thought of him as a babysitter, at best. An overgrown kid, at worst. Who was he kidding, he wondered? Hell, Bailey probably had a better shot at her than he did. He wasn’t even going to think about Coop. He could grudgingly admit that Bailey had a few admirable qualities, but even in his self-doubt he couldn’t figure how Coop rated higher than he did.

Couldn’t commit to a goldfish? He didn’t bother trying to keep the bitter twist out of his smile. It was a shame Angel didn’t know how wrong she was. He was committed to a hell of a lot more than some fish. For all the good it was doing him.

He wondered what had possessed him to buy Sam that music box. He knew that sooner or later she was going to figure out what the tune was… and then it would all hit the fan. He knew when he bought it that it said too much but he told himself that she’d never figure it out. She never listened to the same radio stations he did. She wouldn’t have any idea. He had deliberately ignored the fact that of course she would hate not knowing what the tune was and of course she would try to find out. And he knew that when she did he would be lost. There was no way she could misinterpret the words of the song. It was simply too obvious. He couldn’t believe he’d been such a moron and actually gone through with giving it to her. His best hope now was that she would never tell him when she learned the truth. He wasn’t good with humiliation.

This sucks, he thought. Next year I’m going back to watching the Macy’s parade.

********

Chloe snuggled deeper beneath her comforter, cuddling her new bear. Christmas should come every week, she thought. In the dim light that seeped in from the hallway she could see the vague outlines of her new toys. She slid her hand out from under the blankets to touch the skates she had placed close to her bed. She had gotten to spend the entire day with her mom and John together. She had gotten to have dinner with her grandfather, who maybe liked her after all. And she had gotten a very cool pair of skates. It had been a wonderful day.

She hoped her mom thought today was cool, too. She knew her mom had enjoyed spending the day with John as much as she did. She and grandpa looked like they were getting along okay. And she had gotten some pretty neat presents, too. Chloe had given her a set of bookends that Angel helped her make. Angel had given her a special lens for her camera. And John had given her that music box. Chloe wasn’t sure why he wouldn’t tell her mom what the song was. It was a nice song. She had heard it lots of times on John’s car radio. She hoped her mom figured out what the song was soon. If she didn’t… Well, maybe John wouldn’t be too mad if Chloe told her. Or at least gave her some hints. She’d have to remember to re-set all the radios tomorrow.

* * * * * *

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