Read Online One Snowy Night Before Christmas by Pamela Fryer - Free Book Online

computer’s
keyboard. “Ah yes, room 203. Take the elevator down the hall.”
    “You go on ahead,” Jessie told him. He nodded and picked up
Amy. “Did you find anything seriously wrong with him?” she asked the nurse as
he started away.
    She was still down the hall at the reception desk when the
elevator came, so they went up without her.
    In room 203, the old man was awake sitting propped up on several
pillows in his bed. His face brightened when he saw them.
    “Santa!” Amy shrieked at the sight of every kid’s favorite
celebrity.
    “Hey there, old timer,” Tom said. “Do you remember us?”
    “How could I forget?” His eyes twinkled when he grinned at
Amy. “Hello there, young lady.”
    Amy struggled from his grip. Tom let her down to the floor.
She ran over and jumped on the chair beside the bed. “How are you feeling,
Santa?”
    “Oh, I’m doing fine. Much better than last night, I
declare!”
    “Amy, this isn’t Santa Claus. He has his own name.”
    In the light of day Tom couldn’t deny the old man’s
remarkable resemblance to the Santa character played by Edmund Gwenn in Miracle
on 34th Street . Other than the horrific bruise on the left side of his
forehead, he was every bit the spitting image, right down to the long, white
beard, ruddy cheeks, laughing eyes and jolly round belly.
    “Oh, posh.” He dismissed Tom with a wave of the hand. “She
can call me anything she likes.” The old man turned his attention to Amy. “We
haven’t been formally introduced. What is your name, young lady?”
    “I’m Amy. I used to live in San Francisco but I’m going to
live in Port-end with my daddy. Will you know where to bring my presents when
we get there?”
    He leaned over and tapped the end of her nose, making Amy
squeal with delight. “Of course I will, don’t you worry.”
    Tom stole a glance at the chart hanging on the wall. It read
‘Santa Claus.’ Maybe the nurses thought it was a joke. He stepped forward and
offered his hand. “I’m Tom Dunham. I was in the tow truck that hit you last
night. I wish it was under better circumstances, but it’s nice to meet you.”
    The man shook his hand with a secure grip. “The pleasure is
all mine, young fella.”
    “And what would your name be?”
    “This is Santa!” Amy squealed.
    The old man grinned. “She’s right there.”
    Tom sighed. “Listen, sir. The woman who hit you last night-
she’s awfully worried about you. I want you to know, she’s a good person, and
you were standing out in the middle of the road in limited visibility.”
    “I can see where you’re going, but you can tell her she
doesn’t have to worry. I don’t blame her one bit.”
    Tom took a step forward. “There’s something else you should
know about her—” How could he tell the man who claimed to be Santa that she
didn’t like Christmas? Before he could try, he saw a flash of red move into the
doorway.
    Jessie’s wary gaze moved across all three of them. She
looked downright haunted. Tom stepped over and put his hand on her shoulder.
“He’s doing much better this morning, and he doesn’t hold you responsible.”
    She looked past him at the old man.
    “Hello, dear. Come in.” He beckoned her with a grand wave.
“Please. Come in.”
    As Tom urged her inside, he felt her shoulders go rigid. He
groaned inwardly as she glanced at the chart hanging on the wall.
    “The hospital says you have a severe concussion and they
want you to spend another night,” she stammered. “I told them I’d pay for
whatever you need.”
    “That’s very kind of you.”
    “But I’d like to know your name.”
    “He’s Santa,” Amy insisted again, this time a little more
fiercely.
    Jessie remained silent. Tom could hardly discern her
breathing. “Amy, stop,” he told her.
    “But he is!”
    “Let’s let him answer.”
    “Santa Claus is just what the kids call me,” he said.
    Amy’s attention went rapt.
    “But my real name is Chris Kringle.”
    Jessie turned