Beach Blanket Santa

ways, that was the best Christmas gift he’d ever had. Out of the blue, life had delivered him a second chance with Sarah. A woman from his past who could very well become a permanent fixture in his future. Sarah was beautiful and funny and kind, just the sort of person he’d always imagined himself winding up with. Him and a big bustling passel of kids.
    Matt stopped walking, shocked at his own thoughts. Had he just considered making babies with Sarah? Yeah, he had, he thought, feeling his lips tug into a broad grin. Not that he was accustomed to getting ahead of himself, but Matt couldn’t help but wonder what that might be like. Just him and Sarah—and their big happy brood— all adorning the family Christmas tree with homemade decorations. Matt recalled how much fun it had been sitting around the kitchen table, making those crafts with his sisters and brother Robert. He’d even enjoyed working with his nieces last Christmas when they’d taught him how to fashion Christmas stars from pieces of tinfoil with little holes poked in them to let through the light. While he didn’t have ornament hooks from which to hang them, he had fishing wire to use as a handy substitution. Yes sir, his plan was going to work out fine. All he had to hope was that the tide hadn’t washed out his special surprise.

Chapter Seven

    Sarah awakened early and stretched in bed. She didn’t know what had caused her to rise before seven o’clock. Generally, she slept until eight. Then suddenly she remembered. Of course! Today was Christmas Day! But what did that matter, really? How much could she expect at a beach house on the rugged North Carolina coast? She’d never partaken much in Christmas, anyway. And here she was, stuck with a man who’d never even expected her to be here. And was much less prepared to make the holiday special for her, besides. Sarah unfolded the simple poem she’d composed for Matt, hoping it wasn’t desperately inane. All she’d longed to do was give him something of her heart. She’d wanted to say thank you and had thought for a brief moment that this was a good way to start. Now, looking down at her uneven scrawl, she doubted her instincts. What if he thought her a fool, or worse yet—questioned her iambic pentameter? Sarah’s poetry had never been in perfect rhythm, but at least it was concise and summarized what she wanted to say.
    After Matt had sent her to bed, she’d stayed up an extra hour trying hard to fashion its lines. He’d been so kind, and all she meant to say was thank you. Thanks for being the kind of guy I’d always believed was in this world. Since Sarah had been a little girl, she’d been putting words together. Sometimes clumsily; at others, in a neatly arrayed fashion. Her English teachers had told her she had talent, though she’d refused in many ways to believe it. What was important to her more than anything was reaching the people she felt driven to write for. Since coming here, Matt had become one of those people.
    Sarah folded over the page, deciding that she’d have to give it to him. Most especially because what they had might not last. And, in the end, she thought with a heavy heart, it was destined not to.

    Matt put on the finishing touches, feeling exhausted. He’d work hard all night to ensure everything would come off right. Since he was committed to protecting the environment, he hadn’t been about to insult a flourishing pine. Instead, he’d selected found driftwood as the perfect stand-in “Charlie Brown” yuletide tree. With the summer deck lights strung around it, it looked almost festive. The tinfoil ornaments he’d fashioned thanks to his nieces’ help had been a boon. Just last season, he’d sat with the three little girls around his mom’s kitchen table. They’d taught him a trick they’d learned in Brownie Scouts. How to create shiny star ornaments from cutout pieces of aluminum foil, dotted with pinprick holes to let through the light. They were somewhat reminiscent of Mexican lanterns, only hung from the branches of this wayward tree. Matt felt lucky that, in lieu of ornament hooks, he’d had fishing wire with which to secure them. He hoped with all his heart that Sarah would enjoy it. It certainly looked regal enough, standing nearly five feet tall and spreading its spindling braches wide on all sides.
    Matt thought he heard stirring from Sarah’s room and debated whether to flee or to stay and wish her a merry Christmas. Before