Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy: Rambling and Writing: From Santa Claus To The Scarred Santa

I’ve always been fond of Santa Claus and for a very good reason. My uncle was Santa Claus. No, he didn’t live at the North Pole or take flights in a sleigh drawn by eight reindeer but he was a man with a generous heart, who loved to give, but filled the red suit better than most.

My Uncle, Bill Puett, worked for Just-Rite Dairy in my hometown of St. Joseph, MO. Technically it was Western Dairy, in its’ day, St. Joe’s largest dairy. Before my uncle time, my grandfather, Asbury “Pat” Neely worked there as a pressure engineer until his death. His daughter, my Aunt Janet, worked there and it’s where she met Uncle Bill. As a very small child, I remember making a few visits with my mom to the offices at “the dairy” as we all called it.
Before anyone wonders what a defunct dairy, part of the Quality Checked network, has to do with Santa, I’ll tell you – every year, as part of his job, Uncle Bill put on a Santa suit and made visits to area grocery stores to promote the dairy’s line of Christmas-tree shaped ice creams and Santa Face ice creams. I haven’t see either or anything like it in years but they were a staple at our multi-generational Christmas family dinner at our house.

One Christmas season my parents decided to shop at a different grocery store and I wondered why. I was trailing behind the buggy when lo and behold, Santa Claus appeared. He appeared merry and he called me by name, which terrified me. All I could do was think of any small mischief I might have made in recent days and wonder if it was too late to hide. It was so I spoke to Santa, who seemed very kind and jolly.

Then there was the Christmas Eve when my Aunt Janet came to visit after dark. December 24^th always had me at a high level of excitement, probably increased with the sugar cookies and fudge my mom always made for the holiday. When Aunt Janet came in with Santa at her side, claiming she happened to run across the old elf on the way.

That explains Santa but what about a scarred Santa?

The Scarred Santa (November 13, 2023 from The Wild Rose Press available in both eBook and paperback) combines my respect and honor for those who served with the delicate issue of PTSD. One of my grandfathers, veteran of the Pacific Theater in World War II, suffered from it. He wasn’t scarred but among my grandparents’ friends, there was a man who was. In my teen years, my grandmother told me how much Elmer appreciated the fact I never mentioned his scars. My response was “Elmer has scars?” because I had never noticed. Blend in the fact one of my uncles, Bill Puett, sometimes portrayed Santa as part of his job at Western Dairy and a story was born.

Here's the blurb, followed by an excerpt explaining how Rafe Sullivan became “The Scarred Santa”:

Once handsome Rafe Sullivan is left scarred, injured, and with PTSD from his Marine Corps service in Afghanistan. Returning to civilian life is far from smooth, and the burn scars on his right side are extensive. Although he lives close to family, he lives a solitary life and changes jobs more often than most people change their socks. A temporary job as Santa at the mall is presented, but Rafe first rebels, then relents. His Santa gig affects his PTSD. Then he meets Sheena Dunmore. When she doesn't run from his scars or issues, she intrigues him. An unmasking by some rowdy children is a test of his stamina and spirit. His greatest fear is fire. Will Rafe conquer the fear so he can move forward into the new life he desires?

Excerpt:

At the end of the first week of November, Mike arrived with a big box tucked under one arm and barged into the apartment. “Hello, Rafe. How’s it going?”

Rafe sighed, resenting the intrusion. “Same as always. I get through one day at a time.”

“I thought maybe you’d come back to church. You seemed like you enjoyed it. And they’re putting together a Christmas choir. You used to sing at church.” Although Mike spoke the truth, it wasn’t something Rafe wanted to hear.

Rafe shrugged. “I don’t know. I doubt anyone wants to look at Quasimodo singing carols.”

Mike frowned. “I see you’re back at it.”

“At what?”

“Oh, never mind. Did you find a new job yet?” His brother, still toting the box, sat on the couch without waiting for an invitation.

“You know I haven’t, Mike.” Rafe resisted the urge to roll his eyes and ask Mike to leave him alone. His brother wore the same exasperating expression he’d had as kids when he wanted to spring something big onto Rafe, usually something he would rather not do.

“Don’t you want to know what’s in the box?”

Here it comes. “No, I don’t.”

“Well, you will when you see what it is.” Rafe watched as Mike opened the box and pulled out a full Santa Claus suit. “Ta-da!”

Rafe cringed. “What is it?”

Mike grinned and held out the suit. “It’s a top-of-the-line Santa Claus outfit. This is the best. Look at the velvet jacket and pants, the faux ermine fur trimmings, the leather belt, and the matching boots. Jolly Old St. Nick himself couldn’t dress any better than this.”

Rafe quit believing in Santa at the age of seven. He would rather be in uniform than wear the ridiculous getup. “Then take it to the North Pole.”

Mike ignored his request and beamed. “It’s for you. I got you the best job ever. You’re gonna love it.”

Realization brought horror. Rafe’s stomach tied into a knot. “Oh, no, you don’t. I’m not playing Santa Claus, Mike. It’s not happening.”

His brother’s smile wilted. “Come on, you love Christmas.”

Rafe balled his fists. “No, correction: I used to love Christmas when I had a face and a life. It’s just another day on the calendar to me.”

“You’ll be fantastic.”

Rafe resisted the urge to punch the wall. “Mike, what are you talking about? What is all this about?”

“I told you I’d find you a job, right?”

He hadn’t thought Mike really would. “Yeah, you did.”

“This is it!” Mike sounded excited, but his enthusiasm wasn’t catching.

Rafe blew air through his nose and asked the obvious. “Do you want me to play Santa?”

His brother offered a grin and shouted, “Yes!”

Nothing sounded less likely than donning the suit and playing the old elf but he asked, for Mike’s sake, “Where would this be? Is it at your office Christmas party or at church or what?”

“Oh, it’s even better. It’s at the mall!!” Mike put the suit back into the box.

Rafe’s recent experience at the mall had triggered an episode. It had also given him a chance to interact with Sheena, but he doubted he had the courage to brave it again, especially not as Santa Claus. “You’re outta your mind. I hate the mall.”

“No, you don’t. Mom said you hung out, went to the food court and all when she got her glasses.”

Rafe came to his feet. It was time to admit the truth. “Mike, I freaked out.”

Mike stood. “She said you were sitting with Sheena Dunmore.”

“So?” He lifted his eyebrows, trying to be casual and convince Mike spending time with Sheena didn’t matter.

“So, you survived the mall,” Mike stated. “It’s a great job, Rafe. The pay is excellent for the season. And it’s short term, November through Christmas.”

Rafe could use some cash inflow, but he still found the idea ridiculous. “How good is excellent?”

“It’s eight hundred a week to start. If you do a fantastic job, they’ll up your pay even more.”

He must have heard wrong. Rafe paced the length of the room twice, then faced his brother. “You’re crazy. I look more like some evil Santa thing—what is it, Krampus—than I do Kris Kringle. I’m not old or fat, but I have scars.”

Mike reached deeper into the box. “It comes with body padding, Rafe. And this is the deluxe wig and beard. It’s so soft—wanna touch it? It will cover your bum ear and the worst of your scars. If you’re wearing the whole outfit, kids aren’t going to notice a few scars, and besides, Santa is old, so it won’t be a big deal to them.”

Rafe still resisted the idea, but it had some appeal. First, he’d be at the same mall where Sheena managed the bookstore. He’d have the chance to see her, every day. The Santa getup provided a disguise. She wouldn’t know it was him unless he told her, and Mike had a point. His disfigurement wouldn’t be so obvious wearing the costume. He had to admit, the money would be welcome. He had few needs and received minimal disability payments from his Marine service but earning some additional money appealed. “How do I know I could even get this job if I apply?”

“You don’t have to apply—it’s yours if you want it.” Mike headed for the door, still grinning.

Something didn’t fit, and Rafe needed to know what. “How so?”

“Okay, here’s the total truth. The mall has hired the same guy to play Santa for the last five or six years. He had a triple bypass last week, so he’s not available. Santa arrives at the mall on Saturday for the season, and they need someone to replace him. I’m in Exchange Club with the mall manager, Steve Kristoff. He’s a Marine, by the way, and he mentioned something about being in a bind without Santa. So, I told him about you. He said the job is yours if you want it. So, what do you say?”

Rafe thought about it. He consulted the calendar. “Saturday is tomorrow, Mike.”

“I know.” Mike’s expression never changed.

Rafe had been blindsided. “Couldn’t you have given me a little more notice? I’d want to think about it.”

Mike, hand on the door, turned back to face Rafe. “I know I should have, but I was waiting for the suit to get here.”

It sounded plausible for about three seconds. “Wait—didn’t the mall already have a Santa costume?”

His brother didn’t meet Rafe’s gaze. “It belongs to the guy, and I promised if they offered it to you, I’d buy a new suit.”

Rafe didn’t know if he wanted to punch his brother or hug him. “You spent money for this thing?”

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t know if I would say yes or no?”

Mike shrugged. “I was hoping you’d do it.”

“And if I don’t, you’re out the price of this thing.” Talk about emotional blackmail.

Mike sighed. “I can try to sell it on eBay or something. Are you mad? I’m just trying to help you, bro.”

Rafe sat, feeling cornered, and if hadn’t been for the fact he’d see Sheena, he would have refused. The weekly pay sweetened the pot. “I’m not angry. And I know you’re all about helping me but give me more notice next time, would you?”

The first hint of a smile returned to Mike’s lips. “Are you going to do it?”

Rafe drew in a long, deep breath and then exhaled it fast. “Yeah, I’ll do it. I’ll try it. If it doesn’t work out, then I’m gonna quit. Since you went to a lot of trouble, I’ll do it. I might hate it, and if I do, you’ll hear about it.”

“I can live with your decision.”

If Mike’s grin got any wider, Rafe might be tempted to wipe it off his face. He was a Marine and knew how to throw a punch. Resigned, he scrubbed his face with both hands and accepted the reality. “Tell me where I have to be tomorrow and all the details.”

At a quarter till ten on Saturday morning, Rafe perched on top of a fire truck, lights flashing and sirens blaring, as they approached the main mall entrance. Dressed in the Santa garb from hat to boots, he doubted anyone would recognize him. As the truck rolled to a stop, a large crowd cheered, and for once, although the attention focused on him, Rafe could be confident it wasn’t because of his scars or disfigurement.

Nervous bats—because they were too big to be butterflies—flapped around in his gut, but a sweet sense of anticipation almost overrode it. In high school, way back before he joined the military, he had been in a couple of stage productions. Teenage Rafe had gloried in all the theatrical fun. He’d loved the applause and the cheers. He had almost forgotten, but now, as kids waved and people of all ages cheered, he remembered that he had liked playing a role.

Rafe Sullivan shied away from crowds and hated mirrors. But put him into a red velvet suit, add a mane of white hair and a flowing beard long enough to make ZZ Top proud, and his inhibitions vanished. Rafe might dislike such things, but Santa Claus basked in all of it. Climbing down from the fire truck and strutting into the mall while a high school choir sang “Santa Claus Is Coming To Town” gave him a chance not to be a Marine or disfigured or suffering from PTSD. He became the mythical, magical elf who delivered Christmas presents around the world each December twenty-fourth. And in those moments, he almost forgot Christmas hadn’t been a thing for him in a long time.

When he first saw the line snaking down the length of the main mall alley and doubling back, he cringed. But once he mounted the raised platform and settled into the oversize throne fit for royalty, Rafe settled down. At this point, he didn’t dare have a meltdown.

It helped when he spotted Sheena hovering in the doorway of the bookstore, watching, and waved one mitten. She shot him a smile, as if she knew who hid behind the Santa persona. She couldn’t, though. Mike had promised no one except Gabe and Mom and the mall manager would know about this gig.

“Are you ready, Santa?” Tiffany, one of two college students who served Santa’s elves, asked.

Rafe took a long, slow breath. “Ready as I’ll ever be, so let’s get this thing started.”

The first kid to sit on his lap giggled and preened. For a moment he panicked, certain he could not do this. He glanced around the mall, searching for an exit, and saw Sheena still there. Rafe focused on her to ground his fears. Remember, right now everyone who sees you thinks of you as Santa. They don’t see the battle-scarred veteran or Rafe Sullivan. No one knows who I am under the suit, and they don’t care.

Available in both eBook and paperback at Amazon, Kobo, Barnes and Noble, Books A Million, Google Books, Wal-Mart, Target, ITunes, and IndieBound. Releases next Monday November 13!

https://www.amazon.com/Scarred-Santa-Lee-Sontheimer-Murphy-ebook/dp/B0CHG2JPKX