Saving Mr. Scrooge

by Aine Dyer

  “Can that actually happen?” said a seventeen-year-old girl whose face was just like a thinner version of her mother’s.

  “No, Martha,” Mrs. Cratchit said and smiled while continuing to baste the turkey.

  “How are you feeling today?” Bob Cratchit asked his her.

  “Pretty good on this Christmas Day,” she said patting her large stomach. Bob Cratchit took her arm, cocked his head and his eyebrows cringed down over his eyes and he stared at his wife waiting for something else. “This baby doesn’t kick as much as the others.” A worried look at overtook the Christmas joy on her face.

  Marley leaned in trying to listen.

  “Maybe it’s more of a sitter like me. It will be the youngest and maybe your body is so used to feeling kicks after so many children that maybe you just don’t feel it anymore. Hold on,” Bob Cratchit said and lowered his face towards his wife’s big belly. “Excuse me, Tim,” he looked over at his daughter, smiling, “gosh Martha, I hope it’s a boy – but Tim, could you kick your mother more please?”

  Mrs. Cratchit and Martha both laughed.

  Tiny Tim. Memories of Cratchit’s youngest boy came to him now and he remembered Cratchit’s lament over his medical troubles.

  Marley felt the Spirit move and now they were traveling once again. He didn’t ask where they were going because he didn’t care, he wanted to hold on to the joyful feeling that the cloak brought him forever.

  They landed back at the place where they had begun and Marley saw the Spirit was now a young man.

  “I leave you now but remember what you have seen with me on this night,” the Spirit said.

  “But wait, Spirit, how will I contact you?” Marley asked still clutching the robe.

  “I am only here on Christmas Day. You will find me then.”

  The Spirit shot a tiny beam of light at Marley‘s chest making the crystal sparkle through his jacket.

  “Care for that better, sir, or else you know where your destiny lies,” and with that, the Spirit, light, and feeling of joy disappeared. Marley drooped with the weight of the metal cash-boxes and turned to his brother. He stared at Robert for a moment and then spoke.

  “I know what to do,” was the only thing he could say with brightened eyes and a slight smile turned up on his mouth.

  Chapter 7

  The Angel

  December 25th, 1840

  “Now you know what to do?” Robert asked rising from his last few minutes of rest before the stroke of midnight.

  “I saw Scrooge again and Bob Cratchit! Oh, Robert, if you could have felt the warmth in the Cratchit home. I’ve never felt anything like it before…,” he stopped and thought for a moment. He could recall something like that and then he couldn’t. Something far away but not anywhere here in his present world, but he knew he had felt it before. He shook his head free from the thought and pulled the crystal from his pocket…, “Look at the crystal after my visit.” Tiny beams of light pulsed from the stone.

  “You’re onto something, Jacob. Now tell me your idea.”

  “These Spirits, Robert, they show me things…things that I can’t even remember…,” Marley‘s voice drifted off but he continued. “Things that happened or didn’t… I’m not sure. But that scene with mom and dad…that did happen! You were there. You remember that, don’t you?” Marley stopped and eagerly awaited Robert’s response.

  “Yes I remember that, Jacob. But I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”

  “Didn’t it make you feel something? Did it make you miss mother and father? Or feel the need to smell the house at Christmas again?”

  Robert nodded slowly. “I guess so.”

  “The Spirits are able to tap into our energy somehow and replay those memories for us. What if I could show Scrooge memories of when he was different? Happier even? Somehow, I have to get those Spirits to show Scrooge the time when he was happy. Or close to it.”

  “But Scrooge is alive and not made up of memories. How do you know these Spirits can do the same thing to people who are of the living? And you have to convince those Spirits to help you. And…what does a man like Scrooge care about the past for? He remembers doesn’t he? The man isn’t stupid by any means,” Robert said.

  Marley stared at his brother for a while thinking. He only had memories of the miserable Scrooge with books and numbers. What Robert said was true, Scrooge, like Marley, never cared about anything else.

  “Scrooge was a child once. There must be something I can use,” Marley said expectantly.

  “Scrooge was never a child. And was he really ever happy?” Robert’s gray face was so serious it looked like a statue on a tombstone.

  “No, he was Robert,” Marley said like he was trying to convince himself.

  “How do you know that? I think he’s actually a being made from the energy of cold, hard money,” said Robert.

  “That he just popped out of thin air one day?”

  “Right out of a bank vault,” Robert said seriously.

  “Wait,” Marley said, “I remember…I remember him speaking about his parents and his sister.”

  “Scrooge had a sister? Good Lord, what must she be like?”

  “Yes, a sister, but she was married so her last name wouldn’t have been Scrooge. I think she died giving birth to a child.”

  “Well, that might put her here with us.” Robert’s face relaxed a little.

  “Come on…Marley, remember!” Marley said to himself. He knew Scrooge had mentioned his sister once or twice in varied passing. He pressed his eyes closed to try to recall a memory of Scrooge speaking about her. While he was trying to remember a bell tolled midnight and the pull to roam returned.

  “Her name was Fan and she died giving birth to a son.” Marley recited from his memory.

  “Son still alive?” Robert said with interest slowly moving next to Marley.

  “Yes, he comes to see Scrooge every Christmas Eve to try and get him to come to dinner,” Marley said.

  “And Scrooge recites his bah humbug line, right?” Robert said.

  “That’s right. Never joined him. The nephew always seemed to be overly pleasant to me.”

  “Overly pleasant? You probably mean friendly,” Robert said.

  “Yes,” Marley surprised himself with a smile and almost laughed, “friendly.”

  “She may be here. Or at least we may be able to find her grave. She may be able to give us some insight into Ebenezer,” Robert said.

  “Maybe by her grave? She probably wouldn’t be one of the gray ones.” Marley considered how to find her and slouched at the thought. How many cemeteries were in London? Even if that was where she was buried it could be a long search.

  “That’s hard to say. She is Scrooge’s sister. She could be as mean as him,” Robert said. “But she might be buried near London where her son lives now.”

  “Let’s try it,” Marley said.

  “We won’t have very much time.”

  “Let’s still go,” Marley said. “I’m getting tired of being in this gray place. The longer I’m here, the more my soul drains of color.”

  Again they roamed to the veil and stopped. Blurry visions appeared before them and Marley could just make out the graveyard beyond. He grabbed Robert and pulled him through the veil landing at the edge of many, many elaborate granite graves.

  “Well, I guess it’s worth a try,” Marley said

  “At least there’s no carriage laying on top of you,” Robert said smirking.

  Marley pulled his cash-boxes off the ground and hung his chain over his shoulder. They seemed to be heaviest when he was across the veil and so difficult to carry without dragging them.

  They landed in a sprawling cemetery with a variety of large and small headstones covered by vegetation that slowly coiled around each stone trying to make the occupant disappear into the edge of forgetfulness. Spirits wandered from one end of the cemetery to the other and made Marley wonder if they knew they were dead and just decided to stay in the dark tomb
jungle, or it was their sentence and not of their own will.

  “You look over there and I’ll go over here,” Marley said pointing Robert to go to the left. He wandered through the thicket from stone to stone – some were upheaved and others were barely legible. He came upon a small child sitting in front of a stone rolling a tiny wooden truck around in his fingers.

  “Hello,” Marley said. Upon hearing those words the boy coiled away pulling the truck closer to him.

  “You can’t have this!” An echoed scream erupted from the boy’s mouth.

  “I don’t want that,” Marley said bending down as to almost be the same height as the child. “I’m wondering if you could tell me where a certain grave is. I’ll bet you know everything about this cemetery.”

  “Which grave?” the boy screamed but lifted his eyes to Marley in acknowledgment.

  “It’s a lady. She’s young and her name is Fan,” Marley said. Upon hearing the name the boy’s eyes widened and he moved his mouth up to Marley’s ear.

  “She’s nice, but are you?” he whispered.

  “She must be very special if you want to protect her,” Marley said but had trouble answering the boy’s question. Was he doing this for himself or for someone else? Was he actually nice? He answered the only way he could. “And I’ll try to be nice.”

  The boy stood, considered Marley for a moment, floated away and gestured for him to follow. They moved for a long while through brush and vines and Marley wondered why the cemetery was abandoned and all of the souls with it. He followed the boy to the only ornate stone in the back corner of the cemetery. A young woman, who Marley guessed was in early adulthood, stood rocking back-and-forth pretending to hold something.

  “She waits for her son or brother to return.” The young boy’s words carried sadness in them.

  “Oh,” was all Marley could say as he felt a sudden sadness as well.

  “Miss Fan,” the boy said approaching the girl timidly. She was tall and wore a white gown with blonde hair that overflowed down her back. Everything about her shimmered in movement.

  “Yes, Charles, what is it? Have you brought my son?”

  “No ma’am. I have a man here who wants to see you,” the boy said.

  Fan looked up and then was suddenly right in front of Marley, scaring him a little.

  “Hello, I am Jacob Marley, a friend of Ebenezer Scrooge, your brother. Has he been here to see you?”

  “You know Ebenezer? No, he has never come to see me and neither has my son. Look at my burial place: all overgrown.”

  “Can I ask you a few questions about Ebenezer? Do you remember him as a child?” Marley asked hoping not to upset the fragile spirit.

  “Don’t you want to ask about me?” she said then slowly retreating. The boy moved in front of her as if by instinct.

  “About both you and your brother, if that’s agreeable to you,” Marley said.

  Fan presented him a smile. “Yes,” she said.

  “Did you and Ebenezer have happy times as children?”

  She stared at Marley and he, for a moment, wondered if she understood what he was saying. She looks like an angel Marley thought studying her spectral features. In a moment a supernatural smiled erupted from her mouth. “I loved Ebenezer so much but when we grew up something happened. I don’t know what…he became someone different, something different, but when I was a child he was my protector from my father. Papa was quite disagreeable and could be harsh…,” the light of her spirit faded away in absolute sadness but some light returned as she spoke happier thoughts, “and Ebenezer would sit with me after Father‘s cruel ramblings and make me smile. And then when Scrooge arrived home from that wretched school we spent so much time together at the farm playing and laughing,” she spoke as she experienced each memory again and again, exuberant and excited. “Mr. Marley, I miss him!”

  “And then when you grew up?” Marley asked.

  “Ebenezer met Belle and I met my husband but then Ebenezer became different. Always fearful of being impoverished but we were never poor and I, even after he and Belle separated, could never figure out why he had changed.”

  “Insecurity,” Marley said surprised by the confession of his own revelation.

  “Maybe, Mr. Marley, but there was a time when his light was so bright I thought it would keep us warm forever. That he would take care of my father as well but share Ebenezer did not.” Her spirit turned a dark gray now, almost black. “His generosity may have even been able to save me from death if that was a skill he possessed,” Fan said. Marley could not respond to her comment because he wondered how many souls he could have saved with his generosity, had he too been secure enough to have any. How many missed opportunities to save another had he ignored?

  “Why do you linger at this stone?” Marley asked.

  “I wait for one visit from my son, I suspect,” she said.

  “You cannot leave?”

  “No, it seems not. Young Charles and I have tried to find the light but we have not been successful in seeing it,” she said, placing a hand on the young boy’s shoulder. Fan’s gaze trailed off behind Marley.

  “Jacob, we must go, our time has completed,” Robert said behind him.

  “Thank you, young Mr. Charles and Ms. Fan. I have appreciated our time together today,” Marley said.

  “Thank you Mr. Marley for bringing me those memories. I will play them over and over.”

  “Ma’am,” Marley said and bowed to the young woman and child right before fading back into his gray realm.

  His first thought when he and Robert began their roaming again was spoken out loud: “Robert, help me find a way for her to see her son.”

  Chapter 8

  The Dance

  December 24th, 1841

  It was Christmas Eve and Marley worried that nothing, not even the Christmas Present, could help him. He kept his eyes directly on the familiar horizon and waited. The light could come anytime and he longed to be the first one in line to see the Spirit. Robert stood looking out at the horizon next to him waiting for the light.

  “Gosh, it’s dark tonight. It’s hard to see even the darkest spirit.” Robert continued to stare blankly out towards what seemed like nothing.

  “We must go soon,” Marley said, “I’m not feeling the pull of the light tonight. Come, we should be the first to get there.” Marley gathered up his cash boxes, opened his pocket to check the crystal, and moved slowly toward the horizon. Or at least what they thought was the horizon. Marley decided that the gray fog was the thickest he had ever seen it and hoped that tonight he would still see the Christmas Present.

  “Robert, can you tell me more about your life, if I may inquire.” Marley didn’t mind changing the subject to quell his disbelief that the Christmas Present would show up.

  “My life? Alright.” They traveled far before Robert spoke again. “Father sent me to accounting school. I hated that school and to be away from you and mother.”

  “Robert, you had so much promise in the financial world and that’s why Father sent you away so you would be successful.”

  “Jacob, I know when I speak of regret it only fuels the darkness.” He slowed his pace. “But money and finances were not where I should’ve been. Carpentry was what my hands were made for not finances. Working with my hands and brain together was what I wanted. Not a desk with numbers. And when I couldn’t make a living doing what I was doing, I dare not break from it. I had to keep going to be a success but success would continue to allude me because I wasn’t doing what the Lord‘s purpose was for my life. I thought the voice inside my thoughts was sheer madness! Me? A carpenter?”

  “I would have never guessed that’s what you wanted to be. Why didn’t you say anything?” Marley asked. He looked and saw a deep sadness in Robert’s dull eyes and silence was between them for a while.

  “And you, Jacob? Was it finances what you wanted?”

  “Yes and no. I always felt uncomfortable with the thought of having little money and I
think that’s what fueled me. I cannot say what I would’ve done differently,” Marley said.

  “You know,” Robert continued, “if father hadn’t put me in that accounting firm after school, I think I would’ve found a different way. But disappointing father was a heavy burden on my heart.”

  “Accounting firm after school…,” Marley repeated kind of hazily.

  “Yes, the counting…,” Robert said noticing that Marley had slowed his pace and lingered back behind him.

  “Robert you have given me a new idea, brother!”

  “I have?” Robert asked.

  “Yes! We must try and find the Fezziwigs!” Marley said.

  “The fezzi who?” Robert said.

  “The Fezziwigs! Scrooge worked there before he and I did and I think they may have known Scrooge when he was a different man,” Marley said excitedly and turned from Robert to go in the opposite direction from the light’s destination.

  “Jacob! We must continue towards Christmas Present!” Robert yelled back at him.

  “No, I can’t! Something compels me to go this way! You go and I’ll try and find you!” Marley screamed.

  “You cannot break the veil on Christmas Day, Jacob!” Robert yelled.

  “I will have to learn that for myself, Robert. Now I must go and besides he’s dead, remember? He’s on our side!”

  “Spirits of believers go to Heaven, Jacob. Just remember that!” was the last thing Robert said.

  Heaven. A word that bubbled in his ear and latched onto a permanent thought and wouldn’t leave. He had not considered a higher alternative since he had crossed over, only the lower, and the thought stayed around him as he pushed past all the miserable spirits and away from the forthcoming light. He flew out to the veil and scanned the different graveyards. He caught a memory of he and Scrooge settling some of their accounts late one night before the tax season authorities were to arrive the next day.

  “Jacob,” Scrooge said looking up from his books, “I’ve finished.”