Jackson rode with Mom and Grancie in the car, and I sat between Dad and G-Pa in the truck. They were tired and quiet, but I couldn’t hold it any longer. “Who does that? Who offers to pay the medical bills of the boys who trashed his house and caused so much trouble?”
Dad answered softly, “A man whose heart pumps goodness.”
I would have to think about that, but not tonight.
Monday morning came especially early. There hadn’t been this much excitement in Sycamore Hill since the fire at the courthouse. I was hoping school might be called off because of the snow and most of the town being out so late, but Mom woke me early. I had to face Angus today, but I had an answer if he got mean. Mom always said you catch more flies with honey. Now, I never figured why anybody would want to catch flies anyway, but I knew if Angus was mean to me, and then I got mean, he’d just get meaner. So I was ready for him.
I dressed in a hurry and went downstairs. I was mostly curious about all the phone calls and what else was going on this early.
When the phone rang during breakfast, Dad disappeared to his office. On the way to school, I asked him why all the calls this morning. All he said was, “Just the fallout from the broken windows and the rescue last night. Nothing you need to know, and nothing you can say anything about if you did know, so it’s best if you don’t know.”
“Yes, sir, I got it. But I still want to know.” The look I got from the rearview mirror kept me quiet.
Dad dropped Jackson off at school first. When we got to my school and Dad got out to open my door, he said, “Julia, don’t you get into it with Angus today. If he causes problems, you just stay quiet. He can’t argue with silence. And if he won’t let it go, you tell Mrs. Grayson and let her handle it. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir. I won’t have anything to do with trouble today.” I wasn’t about to tell Dad I had a plan. I wasn’t waiting on Angus to say something to me, and he’d just better not mention snitching. I planned to pour honey on that idea before he had a chance to open his mouth.
He wasn’t in the classroom when I got there. Snow had caused delays this morning, but he got there before the bell rang.
I walked right up to him. “How does it feel to be a hero this morning, Angus?”
He looked at me like I might have been speaking in another language.
“Just think, what you were able to tell the police officer saved Derrick and Wendell. They could have both died right there in that cave, and nobody would have ever known what happened to them.”
Angus stood up a little straighter. His face looked like he wanted to smile, but he didn’t. “Yeah, I’m glad they’re okay. My brother helped too. He even went out to look for them.”
“You and your brother are brave. It takes a lot of courage to do what you did, to do the right thing and speak to the police. The whole town will be thanking you.”
The bell rang, and Mrs. Grayson rescued me when she told us all to take our seats. No more time for talking to Angus. It hadn’t been so bad after all.
Dad took me out to Emerald Crest on Tuesday afternoon. H was at the table in the library just like always, and we started to work carving detail on the feathers. He laid the pheasant feathers I gave him on the table in front of us. Mrs. Schumacher had a quiet conversation with Dad in the corner while H and I worked, then she left the room.
I could tell H had something on his mind. He carved and brushed away the shavings, but he kept looking over his shoulder at Dad. Then he moved away from the table and went to the doorway of the library. He pressed a button on the wall under the light switch, and a bell rang. Mrs. Schumacher appeared in no time. They signed something to each other. Then she announced, “I’ll be bringing tea and cookies in just a few moments.” Then she looked at me. “And Julia, afterwards Mr. Lafferty wants you to see his studio.”
We had tea, and then I was on my way to see H’s studio—a real studio where he’d worked and created for years. Mom had a studio out back of our house, but it was just a dressed-up barn with some windows where she could paint without worrying about a mess. But our house could never be a mess.
Mrs. Schumacher had collected our teacups and put them on the tray with the teapot and cookies. “Julia,” she said, “would you like to come with me? Mr. Lafferty wants me to take you to see where he usually works when the weather is much warmer. We’ll stop in the kitchen first.” I had thought H would take me and explain everything I saw, but he didn’t. I figured it out. This was his way of getting rid of me so he could talk to Dad.
“Yes, ma’am. And I’d like to see your kitchen too. I help my Mom and Grancie in the kitchen sometimes. They talk a lot about kitchens. They’re good cooks, like you, Mrs. Schumacher. Oh, and Grancie said she’d be happy to give you her pound-cake cookie recipe.” Actually, I wanted to see that whole house, every room, and what was behind every door, but the studio was a good place to start.
“Why, thank you, Julia. I’m a much better baker than a cook, and I do look forward to getting that recipe from your grandmother. I so enjoyed my visit with her the other night. Even under such dire circumstances, it was good to have guests.”
I followed her down a hallway beside the garden room. There was the window all boarded up. “They didn’t fix the window yet?”
“No, not yet. That was one of the largest windows in the house, and they must order it special. I’m afraid we’ll be looking at the board for another couple of weeks. It keeps the wind and the cold out, but I do miss the view of the garden. From right here in the kitchen, I can see Mr. Lafferty when he’s in the garden and the lights from the studio.”
That kitchen was as big as a house. Grancie would have thought she had died and gone to kitchen heaven in there. White cabinets with glass doors everywhere. I could have taken a bath in the sink. And there must have been an acre of green marble countertops. Mrs. Schumacher set the tray down on an island bigger than our kitchen. She patted the marble. “This is the best. It’s marble, and it’s where I roll out all my pastries and cookies.”
“You could make enough cookies for the whole town in here.” Then I got an idea. “I’m so glad you agreed to the Christmas party, and it will be so much fun. Grancie and Mom will be making cookies for the next three weeks.”
“Oh, yes, I had a few words with your grandmother when she was here Saturday evening. I told her I would enjoy making cookies for the party as well.”
I walked around the island and ran my hand across the top. “I’ll bet that made Grancie happy, and what would make her even happier is if you invited her and Mom out here to bake cookies in this kitchen. You could make this whole house smell like Christmas.”
“Having them come out would double my pleasure in baking.” She unfolded a tea towel and draped it over the cookies and teapot.
“You should ask them. I know they’d come.”
“Oh, I must ask Mr. Lafferty first. It is his house, remember.”
“But don’t you live here too?”
“I did for a few years, and then I bought my own home. I’m thinking of moving back. It would be better for me and for Mr. Lafferty if I were here. But it would still be his home.” She paused. “I’ll make it all right with him to invite your mom and grandmother, and we’ll keep the secret. He’ll never know we’re baking cookies for a Christmas party at Emerald Crest. Come along, I must show you the studio.”
There was still snow in the garden. I could see the lights were on in the studio. It had a whole wall of windows facing the garden. Mr. Hornsby was in there working. Mrs. Schumacher opened the door and announced we were entering. He stood up and invited us in. “I’m working on these cabinets, doing some repairs and cleaning. By springtime, Mr. Lafferty will think he has a new studio. What do you think, Helena?”
“Why, I think Mr. Lafferty will be so grateful and so surprised. You do such beautiful work, Edgar. He will appreciate your craftsmanship. There are a few other projects in the house that could use your expertise too. And winter might be th
e best time to do them.”
I was glad to know at least Mrs. Schumacher and Mr. Hornsby were on a first-name basis now. That meant they were getting along.
She showed me around the studio. Unfinished birds, blocks of wood, and stacks of boards lined the shelves and walls. The worktable fit right under the windows, and I pictured H sitting there working, having the best-ever view of the whole garden.
Perched in the window sat a pair of cardinals on a limb. They were painted just like the ones he’d given Dad for Christmas. And above them was a bright red one hanging from the ceiling with fishing line. It looked like my baby cousin Jake’s mobile over his crib, only that redbird was some kind of pretty with her wings spread, making flying look more fun than anything.
Mr. Hornsby must have seen me looking at them. “Ain’t they something? Just finished polishing ’em with some good oil. Got years of dust off ’em.”
“Mr. Lafferty will like that. He really likes cardinals.” Mr. Hornsby probably didn’t know yet why H liked cardinals, and I couldn’t tell him.
Mrs. Schumacher stood behind me. I turned and asked her, “Could we go back inside?”
“Certainly, child, you must be cold.” She took my hand, and we walked back through the garden.
“Thank you for showing me the studio, and I shouldn’t ask, but could you show me the big living room where we will have the party? It would help me if I could see it. My dad can help me draw up a plan so that when this party rolls in here, everyone will know where to go and how to get ready. We’ll have to do it in a hurry.”
“Good idea. Come along. I’ll show you.” She led me down the hall past the library. Dad and H were still huddled in the corner, H looking over Dad’s shoulder at the computer screen. They were talking business, and that’s why he’d sent me away.
Mrs. Schumacher opened large wooden double doors to the biggest room I had ever seen. It was like a ballroom in a princess movie. Another acre of green marble on the floors and glass walls on three sides. The furniture sat covered in sheets. My eyes went straight to the piano at the end of the room. It was covered in sheets too, but I knew it was the piano. Dad had been right; it was bigger than the one in the garden room.
Mrs. Schumacher almost twirled around, pointing everything out to me. “Oh, this room was the loveliest, and I’ll make certain it is lovely again for this party. No sheets, only polished furniture and inviting chairs.”
“This is perfect. I can see it now.” I pointed to the end of the room where the piano was. “There’s where we’ll do the play, and then the choir will stand next to the piano to sing. Oh, and Piper has this whole room for her dance. She’s my best friend, and Mrs. Schumacher, she is the most beautiful dancer you will ever see.”
“And you’re the most beautiful pianist.”
I felt my cheeks turning red. “Oh, no. This room deserves the best-ever pianist, and I’m not it.”
“But you will play, won’t you? Mr. Lafferty will be so disappointed if you don’t.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Butterflies filled my chest again just looking at this room. It was perfect. Mom and Grancie would be baking with Mrs. Schumacher, and this party was going to be better than I had planned. It might be the beginning of something that I didn’t know about yet.
Finally, Wednesday came, and our first rehearsal getting ready for the surprise party. Mrs. Wilson, Piper, and her mom had been to our house last night to work on the play. They liked my story. It was a simple one, but Mrs. Wilson said it had lots of meanings.
Piper and her mom decided on all the movements and motions and made their notes. Mom told them all about the costumes the sewing ladies were making and that Dad was providing the prop.
Mrs. Wilson assigned the parts. It wasn’t really that hard with only three boys and nine girls and nobody speaking. She thought I should read the story since I wrote it, but I didn’t want to do that, so I asked her to be the reader. She agreed on the condition that I would read my story at choir rehearsal. I promised to get Mrs. Walker a copy so she could be ready to sign for H.
Our choir met in a small room down the hall from the sanctuary. Mrs. Wilson had named our choir Melody Makers, and then she’d gone candy crazy with M&M’s for our nickname. She found a poster of nothing but M&M’s to put on the door. Then she always had a bowl of M&M’s with peanuts on the piano. They were treats for good behavior.
Most of the time Mrs. Wilson acted like she had eaten too many M&M’s, and tonight was one of those nights. She used her excited voice to tell the Melody Makers and the other two adult workers about the big surprise Christmas party. “Why, this surprise party is going to be such a surprise for everyone! You won’t even know where it is until the day of the party. It’s hush-hush, but it’s going to be so wonderful, and something you’ll remember.” Then she looked at me. “Julia, would you come up here, please?”
I knew what she wanted, so I brought my folder with my story. I had to stand there while she explained what mime was and that nobody had to learn lines. “And after Julia reads her story to you, Piper and her mom will help us stage it. We will only have one prop, so we’ll just have to imagine that when we’re rehearsing this week.” Finally, she tapped me on the shoulder. “Julia, please read us your amazing story.”
It really wasn’t my amazing story. It was the oldest and best story ever. I’d just written it Julia-style. I held up my folder and began to read.
Once upon forever, in a land nearer than you can imagine, there lived a king and all his people. He was called King of the High Mountain. It was beautiful and peaceful on the High Mountain where he lived. The forest was greener than any other forest down below. The flowers were more colorful than any other flowers anywhere. And the music was more beautiful than any music ever heard. The sun shone on the High Mountain all the time. There were no storms, only a mist that watered the mountain and made rainbows.
The king lived in a castle—the most beautiful castle ever. And there were houses, beautiful houses, on the High Mountain. But the houses were all empty, and the King was so lonely. If he only had neighbors …
The King of the High Mountain looked at all his people in the valley below. The men and women worked hard in the fields to grow food, but storms and pests destroyed their crops. Many of them went hungry. They built shelters to live in, but the winds came and blew them down. The sun stopped shining every day, and the darkness caused the people to get lost and hurt. Some of the people got sick, and some of them were mean to each other.
The King of the High Mountain called down to his people and invited them to live on the mountaintop where everything was beautiful, but they could not find the path to get to the top. The King sent messages with maps and instructions, but the people ignored them and did not pay attention. They just kept on doing things their way, the hard way, down in the valley.
One day the King said to himself, The people cannot get here by themselves. I must send someone to show them the path. They will follow him all the way to the top of the High Mountain. The King thought and thought about who should go down the mountain. If I send a messenger, the people might not listen and follow him. But if I send my son with my invitation, they will follow him all the way up to the High Mountain. So that’s what the King did.
The Prince traveled a long road down from the High Mountain. He went into the valleys to all the men, and he went to all the women and even the children. He handed each of them a beautiful invitation from his father, the King of the High Mountain. And one by one, they followed him, and he led them all the way to the top of the High Mountain.
The King was so happy to have neighbors, and the people were so happy to be there. They could not believe how beautiful everything was on the High Mountain, and they never thought of living in the valley below again. They roamed the green forests and swam in clear streams and ate the best food ever every day. And there was no darkness to frighten them or cause them to lose their way. They lived peacefully on the High Mountain.
This
is the story of Christmas. This is the real story of living happily ever after.
I took my seat, and Mrs. Wilson clapped like she’d never heard a story before or was giving me a standing ovation or something. I even thought I saw a tear in her eye. “Oh, Julia, this is the best story ever. I can see all of you beautiful children now bringing this story to life.” She paused and wiped her eye. “This is going to be the best surprise Christmas party ever. Now, Piper, will you and your mom come up? And let’s get to work, Melody Makers.”
We got home after church Wednesday night. I put my backpack on the breakfast table. Mom went for the teakettle, and Jackson went straight for the refrigerator. His head was usually either there or on his pillow or the arm of the sofa. He put the gallon of milk on the island and started looking for a snack.
Dad followed us in and loosened his tie. He spoke like he was making an announcement. “You will be happy to know that everything is working out.”
He had my attention. “Is there something that wasn’t working out?”
“Good question, Julia. And yes, there was. Come to find out, there were four more boys involved with the other two broken windows out at Emerald Crest. When I called the police the other night about the third broken window, that meant that the police would have to file charges against the boys. Mr. Lafferty was mighty upset about that. He did not want them charged. He felt they and their families had suffered enough already.”
Jackson was on his second glass of milk, and I kept my eye on him inhaling the cookies. “Jackson, could you save me just one swallow of milk and one cookie?”
He rolled his eyes and kept chewing.
When Jackson went to the pantry for the peanut butter, I grabbed two cookies and made a face at Dad. “So why don’t you just drop the charges?”
“Can’t. You can’t just drop charges when a case has been filed. Listen up, Julia. Justice System 101. The complaint had already been sent to the district attorney, and he had already filed it with the court.”
Silent Days, Holy Night Page 17