'Tis the Season Read online

  Min chuckled. “It was harder to surprise you girls when you were older.”

  “Min? What’s your favorite Christmas memory?” asked Flora.

  “Laws, that’s a tough question. I have so many wonderful memories. One thing I liked a lot, though, was going to church on Christmas Eve. We used to do that when I was little. We went to church every Sunday then, and on holidays, too, and, oh, sitting in that hushed, chilly room with candles burning and the stained glass windows seeming to glow, snow falling sometimes, listening to the minister read the Christmas story from the Bible. That’s one of my best memories.”

  They had finished dinner and Flora said, “On Christmas Eve, we always make hot chocolate and read The Night Before Christmas.”

  “Then I think that’s exactly what we should do now,” said Min.

  “I’ll help you clear the table,” said Allie, “but after that, I’m going to head upstairs. I have a little work to do.”

  “On Christmas Eve?” cried Flora, and Ruby said, “You’re not going to hang your stocking?”

  Aunt Allie was standing at the sink, a stack of plates in her hands. “Oh, you can hang it for me,” she said over her shoulder.

  “But —” Flora started to say, and then found that she was so astonished, she couldn’t even finish the sentence.

  “Can’t the work wait a bit?” Min said gently to Allie.

  Flora couldn’t see her aunt’s face, but she had a feeling Allie rolled her eyes before replying (with a sigh), “Okay. Call me when the hot chocolate is ready.”

  Flora set herself outside the moment. After all, she barely knew her aunt; why should she care if Allie was a supremely rude creature? The most important people in Flora’s life at that moment were Ruby and Min, and they were excited about the festivities. Min was bustling around the kitchen, tidying up and humming along to “Good King Wenceslas,” and Ruby was setting out mugs and looking for the cocoa powder.

  “I’ll bet,” said Min, “that each of us in this room knows a good secret that will be revealed tomorrow.”

  “Yup,” said Ruby. “I definitely do.”

  “So do I,” said Min.

  “Me, too,” said Flora, feeling a little wiggle of anticipation. “Lots of them.”

  When the hot chocolate was ready, Ruby carried it into the living room on Min’s Santa Claus tray. Ruby liked the tray a lot, but she couldn’t help feeling that it was the wrong tray. Last year on Christmas Eve, she and Flora and their mom and dad had sat in their old living room in their old house drinking their old brand of hot chocolate. Ruby had had the job of carrying the tray of hot chocolate to the living room. The tray they always used on Christmas Eve was square and red and in the middle said COOKIES FOR SANTA, and this was the correct and proper tray.

  Ruby gave herself a short lecture. The Santa face tray is very nice, she said. Think how lucky you are. Lots of kids have no tree, no presents, no Christmas, not even a Santa face tray.

  But she still missed the old tray just a little.

  Soon, though, when Ruby and Flora and Min and Aunt Allie were sitting in the living room, each holding a cup of hot chocolate, a fire crackling in the hearth, King Comma and Daisy Dear on hand to see what would happen next, Ruby found that she could focus on right now instead of a year ago. Look ahead, she reminded herself, not back.

  For a few moments, the living room was very, very quiet. Ruby listened to the fire and to Daisy Dear, who began to snore, and she thought she could hear distant church bells. Finally, Min said, “Well, I never. Christmas Eve and nobody has anything to say?”

  Ruby, despite her lecture, swallowed a large lump in her throat. But she set down her mug and said, “Flora, where’s The Night Before Christmas? We brought it from home, didn’t we?”

  “I’ll get it,” said Flora. “It’s in my room, I think.”

  “Allie, do you know,” said Min, “I believe we still have the copy you and Frannie used to read. I’ll get that one, too. We’ll read from your copy, Ruby, but you and Flora might enjoy looking at the old one.”

  “Why?” asked Ruby.

  “You’ll see.”

  Min disappeared upstairs, and a few minutes later she and Flora returned to the living room, each carrying a copy of The Night Before Christmas.

  “Who should read?” asked Min.

  “That was Ruby’s job,” said Flora. “Starting when she was in second grade, anyway, and old enough to read the book.”

  “Did you have a job?” Aunt Allie asked Flora.

  “I used to be in charge of writing the note to Santa. When we were too old for that, Mom and Dad gave me another job. I got to play Santa on Christmas Eve.”

  “Play Santa?” asked Min.

  “We were allowed to open one present each after we had hung our stockings, and I chose the presents.”

  “Ah,” said Min.

  Ruby found herself brightening at the thought of opening the early presents. She sat back on the couch. Daisy Dear shifted, resting her giant head in Ruby’s lap, and didn’t seem to mind when Ruby used the top of her head as a resting place for The Night Before Christmas.

  Ruby drew in her breath and, in her slightly too-loud stage voice, intoned, “‘’Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.’”

  Ruby’s favorite part of the poem (aside from saying “threw up the sash,” which still made her giggle) was, for reasons she couldn’t explain, the part about the moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow. Maybe it was because she liked the picture on that page — an image of a tiny, sleeping town, its church steeples and rooftops and streets buried in a blanket of snow. The town, she realized, could be Camden Falls.

  Ruby closed the book while she was still reciting the last lines of the story (to indicate that in actuality she had memorized the entire poem and didn’t need the book at all), and laid it beside her on the couch. “‘… a merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night,’” she said in her Alice Kendall voice.

  “That was lovely, Ruby,” said Min.

  “You’re a very good reader,” said Aunt Allie approvingly.

  “Would you girls like to see your mother’s old copy of the story?” asked Min. She handed the book to Flora, who scooted next to Ruby on the couch. They opened the book and looked at the first page, then turned to the second page. They turned several more pages and Ruby finally exclaimed, “Someone drew glasses on every single person in the book!”

  “And the mice and all the reindeer!” cried Flora. “Every living creature.”

  From her spot in an armchair, Aunt Allie burst out laughing. “Oh, Mother! I’d forgotten about that!”

  “Did you draw the glasses?” asked Flora in amazement.

  “Your mother and I both did. We did it together one Christmas Eve when we got impatient waiting to hang our stockings. We thought we were being awfully funny.”

  Ruby heard a catch in her aunt’s voice and looked up from the book.

  “Sorry,” said Allie.

  “No reason to be sorry,” said Min, and Ruby heard a catch in her grandmother’s voice, too.

  Ruby looked from Min to her aunt and back and understood that she and Flora were not the only ones missing people on this frosty Christmas Eve. She clasped Flora’s hand briefly, and then Min said to Flora, “All right, Santa Claus. Choose a present for each of us, and then it will be time to hang stockings and go to bed. It’s getting late, and you girls had a big day.”

  Flora knelt by the Christmas tree. “Hmm,” she said, and made a great show of examining packages and reading tags.

  “Just choose them!” Ruby finally yelped from the couch. “I can’t wait any longer!”

  Flora chose four small gifts and handed them out.

  Min exclaimed over a pin from Aunt Allie. “You’d think I’d get too old for new jewelry,” she said, “but I never do.”

  Aunt Allie opened a box containing a rubber stamp from Flora. “See? It’s a computer,” said Flor
a. “You can stamp it on your envelopes and everyone will know you’re a writer.”

  “Very thoughtful,” said Aunt Allie.

  Flora’s gift was from Min, a copy of Half Magic, which Flora had been wanting to read.

  And Ruby’s gift was a pair of mittens that Min had knitted.

  “When did you make them?” asked Ruby. “I never saw you working on them. Very sneaky. Thank you, Min!”

  The stockings were hung then, and moments later, Ruby and Flora were banished to their bedrooms.

  “Good night!” they called. “See you on Christmas morning!”

  Christmas Eve had been a long and busy day, and Flora had little difficulty falling asleep that night. She remembered long-ago Christmases when she had lain awake for hours listening for the pawing of reindeer hooves on the roof, or sleigh runners crunching to a halt in the snow by the chimney. And she remembered the previous Christmas when she had wished so hard for her very own sewing machine (a gift she wasn’t certain her parents would deem her old enough to warrant) that she had stared wide-eyed about her room until after midnight. But on this Christmas Eve, she nestled under her blankets, King Comma curling up against her chest, and felt as though she had just barely drifted off when she was awakened by Ruby jumping up and down at the foot of her bed, exclaiming softly, “It’s Christmas, Flora! It’s Christmas morning! Get up!”

  “No,” mumbled Flora. “It’s the middle of the night. Go back to bed before you wake Min.”

  “It is not the middle of the night” Ruby replied indignantly. “It’s almost six-thirty. Come on — get up. Please?”

  Flora rolled over and checked her clock. “Ruby,” she said, “I think you’d better wait until seven at least.”

  “Oh, I can’t, I can’t,” Ruby wailed, and then said again, “It’s Christmas!”

  “Get in bed with me,” said Flora. “King Comma is here, too. You can wait with us.”

  Flora tried to go back to sleep, but Ruby wriggled and squirmed and tossed so mightily that Flora nearly fell out of bed, and King gave a disdainful meow and emerged, looking very put out, from under the covers, the sheet trailing behind him like a veil. At five minutes to seven, when Ruby kicked Flora in the knee, Flora finally said, “Okay. Go wake up Min and Aunt Allie.”

  “I’ll wake up Min, but not Aunt Allie,” said Ruby, and she dashed down the hall, calling, “Min! Min! Merry Christmas!”

  Flora yawned and stretched and saw the hall light blink on. She looked out her window. Lights were glowing softly in the houses across the street. Camden Falls was rising early this morning.

  “I can’t wait another minute!” Flora heard Ruby say from the hallway. “Please can we get up now?”

  “I think we’re already up,” Min replied.

  Flora slipped into the hall. “Merry Christmas, Min,” she said.

  “Good lord in heaven, what time is it?” That was Aunt Allie, and everyone turned to watch her progress down the stairs from the third floor.

  “Seven o’clock on the dot!” said Ruby, which wasn’t quite true, but Aunt Allie looked far too sleepy to care.

  Min tied the sash of her bathrobe around her ample waist and patted her hair. “Look at me. I’m a fright,” she said. “But no matter. Now, everyone wait here while I light the fire.”

  “Wait?!” wailed Ruby.

  “Could you start the coffee, too?” said Aunt Allie, who had lowered herself onto the bottom step.

  “Oh, oh.” Ruby groaned dramatically, but she sat next to Allie, and Flora sat next to her, and they all waited silently.

  Five agonizing minutes later, Flora heard crackling. The smell of wood smoke drifted up the stairs. Five more minutes and she could smell coffee.

  “Okay!” Ruby shouted from her place on the step. “I smell coffee and the fire! Can we come down now?”

  “You can come,” said Min.

  Ruby flew down the stairs, Flora behind her, Aunt Allie, moving at a slower pace, behind Flora.

  Ruby made a dash for the stockings, but Flora stopped suddenly as she entered the living room. This moment, this perfect Christmas moment, happened only once each year. It was the few seconds in which she could glimpse the stuffed stockings hanging from the mantel, a fire in the hearth, the shining tree surrounded by wrapped gifts; the few seconds before the first bit of wrapping paper was removed and Christmas began to unravel. This wasn’t her old house, this wasn’t her old living room or fireplace, and these weren’t her familiar decorations. But Flora found the scene as heart-stopping as always, and she paused to look, just look — and then Ruby grabbed her stocking and dumped it on the floor.

  “Oh!” Ruby cried. “A stuffed reindeer! A candy cane! A light-up pen! Ooh, chocolate! And marzipan! Thank you!”

  She pawed through her bounty while Flora regarded her stocking, then reverently released it from its hook and carried it to the couch. She admired it for several more seconds before withdrawing the first gift and unwrapping it slowly. A bar of soap in vibrant pink and green.

  “That’s from Daisy,” Min said to Flora. “She did her own shopping this year.”

  Flora giggled. “Good choice, Daisy. Thank you.”

  “Look! A lottery ticket!” exclaimed Aunt Allie. “Thank you, Mother.”

  “A chocolate Santa,” said Min.

  “A magic trick,” said Ruby.

  “Rubber stamps!” cried Flora.

  “Earrings,” said Aunt Allie.

  “Don’t forget the stockings for King Comma and Daisy Dear,” said Flora.

  King had followed everyone into the living room and had curled up in front of the fire, sound asleep again, before he’d even eaten his breakfast. But Daisy was seated directly beneath her stocking, staring at it pointedly.

  “Do you smell something good in there?” Min asked her.

  Daisy’s tail thumped the floor lustily.

  “Can I open her presents?” asked Ruby. “I’m done with my stocking.”

  “You’re done?” said Flora. “Already?” Her own stocking, and Min’s and Aunt Allie’s, were still half stuffed.

  “Done!” cried Ruby. She inserted a marzipan pig in her mouth and reached for Daisy’s stocking. “What did you get from Santa, Daisy Dear?” she said.

  Daisy got a squeaky toy in the shape of a candy cane, a rawhide bone, a package of Greenies treats, and, much to Flora’s disgust, a brand-new hoof for gnawing on. It was the hoof that Daisy had smelled, and she snuffled at Ruby’s hand as she unwrapped it.

  “Pew! Those hoof things sti —” Flora started to say. She paused. “They really smell.”

  “But Daisy really loves them,” said Ruby. “And on Christmas, everybody gets treats. Can she have it right now, Min?”

  “She may,” said Min, and Daisy retreated to the hearth rug, where she lay down, one hind leg delicately outstretched, the revolting hoof anchored between her front paws, and chewed with great concentration.

  “Merry Christmas, Daisy!” said Ruby.

  Aunt Allie claimed that she needed her coffee then in order to get the cobwebs out of her head, so Min went into the kitchen. When she returned, carrying two mugs, Ruby said, “Can I give you all my best present right now?” she said. “It’s for everybody together, and I can’t wait one single second longer to give it to you. Here. Sit on the couch,” said Ruby. And she added, “This is my best secret of the day.”

  Flora sat between Min and Aunt Allie, coffee sloshing in their mugs, since Ruby had seated them rather forcibly. Then Ruby disappeared from the living room for a moment. When she returned, she stood before them in her nightgown, saying, “My gift to you is a song. I hope you like it. Merry Christmas.”

  Ruby clasped her hands together, closed her eyes as she sometimes did before a musical performance, and began to sing in her clear, steady voice. “Angels we have heard on high, sweetly singing o’er the plains.” By the time she had reached the third line, Min was sniffling, and Aunt Allie put her hand to her heart.

  “Oh, my. That was love
ly, Ruby,” said Min, her voice catching, when Ruby had sung the last “Gloria in excelsis Deo.”

  “A wonderful gift,” agreed Aunt Allie. “You have a beautiful voice, Ruby.”

  And Flora said, “How did you keep that a secret? That was a good one, Ruby. We never even heard you rehearsing.”

  Ruby grinned and blushed slightly. “I have other presents for you,” she said, “but that was the main one.”

  Min said it was time to stop and have breakfast, which caused Ruby to stare dolefully at the packages under the tree, but Min added that she had made a special Christmas coffee cake, so everyone went happily into the dining room. Later, they gathered around the tree again, and now it was Flora who couldn’t wait to hand out her presents.

  “The special ones,” she said.

  The special gifts were the ones Flora had made: a sachet in rich purples and reds for Aunt Allie, a striped hat for Ruby, and a box of stationery for Min.

  “You made this?” exclaimed Min when she opened the box.

  Flora nodded. “Using rubber stamps, gold ink, and the embosser — which I always remembered to unplug,” she added hastily.

  “Oh, my goodness, this is lovely. Everything is lovely.”

  After that, Min played Santa Claus, and the morning passed slowly and quickly at the same time. When all the gifts had been opened, Flora had new clothes (some made by Min), a scrapbook from Mary Woolsey (the pages blank, but the cover exquisitely embroidered by Mary), a pile of books, new art supplies, and everything she would need to knit a hat and matching mittens. This last gift had come from Aunt Allie, who must have rethought her savings account idea. Flora was certain Min had helped her choose the items, but she didn’t care. And when she thanked her aunt, she gave her a hug.

  “Saints preserve us,” said Min, looking at the stew of torn paper and ribbon bits and boxes on the floor. “Time to clean up a bit. Mr. Pennington is coming over for lunch, you know.”

  By the time he arrived, Flora and her family had showered and dressed (mostly in new clothes), and they greeted him fresh-faced at the door. More presents were exchanged, and in the afternoon, Olivia came over to see Flora’s and Ruby’s presents, and then they went to Olivia’s to see hers. Lacey came over later, then Ruby went to Lacey’s, and before Flora knew it, darkness had fallen, and the day was nearly over.