Crooked as a Dog's Hind Leg

by Toni L. P. Kelner

  "It's about time," Vasti said. "The party starts in five minutes."

  Actually, we still had twenty minutes left, but Idelle knows how useless it was to argue with Vasti as well as I do. "Sorry Vasti. We had to finish wrapping the last batch of presents after work, and the roads are just terrible."

  Then the sisters noticed me and Richard, and, as if one, said, "Laurie Anne! Richard! We didn't know you were coming! Just let us hug your necks!"

  Richard and I were immediately surrounded by hugging and kissing cousins, followed by less effusive but equally sincere greetings from Clifford.

  "Doesn't Laurie Anne make a cute elf?" Idelle asked her sisters.

  "I don't know how Richard is keeping his hands off of her," Odelle agreed.

  Carlelle said, "He just needs a little encouragement. Vasti, where'd you hang the mistletoe?"

  "I didn't think mistletoe would be appropriate at a party for senior citizens," Vasti said stiffly.

  "That's all right," Idelle said. "We brought some." She dug into her pocketbook, produced a sprig tied with red ribbon, and held it up high over my head. "Richard, Laurie Anne needs a kiss."

  "'The kiss you take is better than you give,'" said Richard, and kissed me soundly, much to the delight of the triplets. "Troilus and Cressida, Act III, scene 5."

  "That's enough of that," Vasti said. "We've got work to do." She handed out assignments, and we went to work.

  Richard and I were hanging the mistletoe when he whispered, "How am I supposed to tell the triplets apart when they're dressed alike?"

  "Check their necklaces," I said. "Each one is wearing her initial." Actually, I was used to the triplets dressing identically most of the time, so this was no worse than usual. I did notice that while my outfit was nearly the same as what the sisters were wearing, their jerkins were a good three inches shorter than mine.

  Vasti must have realized the same thing, because I heard her say, "I didn't realize your outfits were so short when I bought them."

  All three of the sisters raised their eyebrows in innocent surprise, even though we all knew that Carlelle was an expert seamstress and that hemming those jerkins wouldn't have taken her any time at all.

  "Short skirts won't do you much good around here," Vasti said with a sniff. "Even you three aren't desperate enough to chase after men old enough to be your grandfather."

  "But there's always the doctors," Idelle said cheerfully.

  "And the orderlies," Carlelle added.

  "And maybe even male nurses," Odelle said.

  "I see y'all have given this some thought," Vasti said. "Some of us are here out of the goodness of our hearts to spread some Christmas cheer."

  Idelle made a rude noise. "Who do you think you're fooling, Vasti? Everybody knows that the only reason you put this party together is for publicity for Arthur. Showing off how civic–minded he is."

  "Well, helping out a husband is better than trying to catch one," Vasti snapped.

  I decided it was time for some peace on Earth. "As long as the old folks have a good time, it doesn't really matter why we're here, does it?"

  "I suppose not," Idelle admitted.

  "And speaking of old folks," Vasti had to add, "we better get a move on. Our guests will be here any time now."

  I was arranging the packages the triplets had brought under the Christmas tree when Clifford came up behind me and touched my shoulder. He was carrying a silver gift bag with a cascade of curling green and red ribbons tied around the handle.

  "Laurie Anne, you're going to be handing out the gifts, aren't you?"

  "The triplets and I are," I said.

  He held out the bag. "Could you add this one to the stack?"

  "Sure." I didn't see a tag. "Who's it for?"

  "It's for Liz Sanderson. She's a nurse here."

  Knowing how shy he could be, I didn't say a word, just put the bag under the tree. He was still standing there when I turned back around.

  "I thought it'd be nice if she got a Secret Santa gift, too. All the residents are getting them," he said.

  "That's very thoughtful of you, Clifford."

  "I just didn't want her to feel left out. She works real hard."

  "I'm sure she does."

  He nodded a few times rapidly, and then said, "I better go tune my guitar. Bye now." He walked away more quickly than was strictly called for.

  Richard walked up while Clifford was escaping and asked, "What's the matter with him?"

  "I think he doth protest too much," I misquoted, and explained what Clifford was up to.

  "Ah, young love," Richard said. "Reminds me of my first Christmas gift to a girl."

  "What was that?"

  "A paperback copy of Romeo and Juliet, with photos from the Zeffirelli film. I hoped it would inspire the lovely Jennifer to imagine me as Leonard Whiting and herself as Olivia Hussey."

  "Did it work?"

  "Yes and no. She fell in love with Leonard Whiting."

  "Her loss," I said, and gave him a consoling kiss before finishing up with the packages. "There," I said when done. "As pretty as a Christmas card."

  "I'll say," said Richard with a grin.

  "I meant the tree."

  "Of course," he said innocently.

  We wandered over to the refreshment table, but the triplets had everything under control. Vasti rushed by a time or two with clipboard in hand, but I couldn't figure out why since we had finished all the work.

  "It's time," she finally wailed, "and Arthur isn't here yet. The secretary at City Hall said he left ages ago."

  "He probably got held up by the storm," Odelle said.

  "It was terrible driving over here," Carlelle added.

  "Like driving on a sheet of glass," Idelle said.

  "But we can't have a Christmas party without Santa Claus," Vasti protested. Then she looked at Richard. "Richard, do you suppose––?"

  "No," Richard said. "For one, I'm not Santa Claus material." That was true enough. You didn't often see a lanky. brown–haired, beardless Santa. "And for another, you haven't got a spare red suit."

  Vasti nodded, acknowledging defeat. "Oh well. The photographer from the Byerly Gazette probably won't make it either."

  "Thank the Lord for small favors," I whispered to Richard. "I am not about to have my picture taken while wearing an elf suit." Especially not for publication in the local paper.

  Vasti looked at her clipboard one last time and nodded decisively. "We may as well get this show on the road. Clifford, play 'Jingle Bells.' Richard, you can serve punch. Elves, y'all go stand around the tree. And smile everybody! It's Christmas."

  We all obeyed, right down to the smiles. Like she said, it was Christmas. The double doors on the end of the room opened, and the nursing home residents slowly started coming in. When I saw the happy expressions on their faces, I decided it had all been worth it. Driving in the storm, doing what Vasti said, even wearing the elf suit.

  The last folks to come in were in wheelchairs, mostly pushed by nurses, and I looked to see if I could spot the young lady who had caught Clifford's eye. I knew her as soon as I saw her. She was by far the youngest nurse there, and no matter what Vasti said, her red hair looked natural to me. There was just a sprinkling of freckles over her nose, and she had a curvy little figure that would have looked a lot nicer in an elf suit than in that starched nurse's uniform.

  "Cute, isn't she?" Odelle whispered.

  "Not bad, if you like them young and pretty," Idelle said.

  "Look at Clifford," Carlelle said with a giggle. "He looks like he's been struck by lightening."

  Well, not quite, but pretty close. If Liz had looked in his direction, there was no way she could have mistaken his expression for anything other than unabashed adoration. Then he caught himself and concentrated on his guitar playing.

  "Isn't love wonderful," Carlelle sighed.

  "You should know," Idelle said. "You've been in love three times this week yourself."

  Odelle said, "When sh

e gets a look at that doctor, she might try for four."

  The three of them moved to converge on an admittedly attractive doctor. Meanwhile, the residents were converging on the refreshment table, and I went to help Vasti dispense cookies and other goodies. Richard was doing a booming business filling glasses, and I could tell he was dispensing Shakespearean quotes alone with the punch.

  Once the first flurry was over, I managed to edge over to where the lovely Liz was making sure a particularly frail–looking patient had everything she needed. Just to help out, of course, not because I was nosy.

  "Are y'all having a good time?" I asked them both.

  The older lady looked confused. "She wants to know if you're having a good time," Liz said in a much louder voice. The lady bobbed her head and nibbled on a cookie.

  "Mrs. Good is a little hard of hearing," Liz explained to me, "but she really is enjoying herself. They all are. We really appreciate y'all coming over here."

  "It's our pleasure," I said, and was glad to realize that I was telling the truth. "I'm Laura Fleming, by the way."

  She clearly didn’t recognize my name, so I sighed to myself and added, "Some people call me Laurie Anne." As a matter of fact, almost everyone in Byerly did, no matter how hard I tried to change their ways.

  "That's right. You're the one who lives in Boston, aren't you?"

  I nodded. "There aren't many secrets in Byerly."

  She smiled. "No, there aren't. Besides, I know some of your cousins. Ilene and Vasti, of course. And Clifford."

  Had I noticed a certain emphasis on that last name? "I think he mentioned you to me," I said nonchalantly.

  "Did he?" she said, and she didn't sound a bit nonchalant. She looked over to where he was playing and singing "Christmas in Dixie." "He's got such a nice voice. Reminds me of Garth Brooks."

  Yes, there was definitely attraction on both sides. Now, how would I get them under the mistletoe? Stop that, I told myself firmly. I was getting to be as bad as Vasti.

  Speaking of Vasti, she was ready to speak for herself. She waved for Clifford to stop singing, and stood next to him. "Is everybody having a nice time?" she asked in a voice loud enough that even Mrs. Good would have no trouble hearing her. She waited for an affirmative murmur, and then said, "Well, we're all real glad. I do have some bad news for you, though. Santa Claus got stuck in the ice out there, and he's not going to be able to make it. But don't you worry! He sent some of his very favorite helpers with a whole bunch of presents for you folks. Y'all just stay where you're at, and they'll be coming around in a minute."

  That sounded like a cue for us elves, so we met by the Christmas tree. Vasti and her clipboard joined us.

  She said, "Now all of the packages are labeled, so you shouldn't have any problem handing them out."

  I said, "How do we know who's who?"

  "I sent around pins for everybody with their names on them a couple of days ago. They're supposed to be wearing them."

  Now that she mentioned it, I saw that all of the residents were wearing red and green badges. Whatever faults Vasti might have, she did know how to arrange a party.

  Vasti consulted her clipboard and asked the triplets, "Did y'all put together a list of what you got for people? I want to cross–reference it with my Secret Santa list."

  "We didn't quite finish typing it up," Carlelle said in a tone that meant that they hadn't even started yet. "You don't need it right now, do you?"

  "I suppose not," Vasti said. "Laurie Anne, you would not believe what some of these people asked for for Christmas." She rolled her eyes. "All kinds of candy when they know it's not good for them and frilly lingerie they don't need any more than the man in the moon. One old coot wanted dirty magazines. Now what good are dirty magazines going to do an old man?"

  "Maybe looking is better than nothing," I said.

  "And what if he gave himself a heart attack?" she asked indignantly. "How would I explain that? I told the triplets to just ignore any silly gift ideas like that."

  The triplets nodded dutifully.

  Vasti said, "Now you four get busy, and I'll go see how the refreshments are holding out." She clattered away.

  "Did you three get stuck buying and wrapping all of the presents?" I asked. There were thirty or forty residents, and it looked like there was a gift for each of them under the tree.

  "Well, most of them," Carlelle said. "Every patient is somebody else's Secret Santa, and those that are able did their own shopping. We just shopped for those who couldn't."

  Idelle said, "You didn't think Vasti did any of it, did you?"

  "I think she likes to organize things so she doesn't have to do any of the work herself," Odelle said.

  "That's not fair," Carlelle protested. "She works hard telling everybody else what to do." The other triplets and I snickered, and she realized how that had sounded. "You know what I mean. Besides, we love shopping, don't we?"

  Her sisters nodded.

  "Laurie Anne, I'd love to come see you in Boston," Idelle said. "Christmas shopping must be so much fun with all those stores you have up there."

  "To tell you the truth, Richard did most of our shopping this year. I just couldn't get into the mood," I said.

  "Really?" Carlelle said. "I just love Christmas shopping. All the sales and the people and the Christmas music and all."

  Most years I had felt the same. It's just that every time I went into a store this year, I kept seeing gifts that would have been perfect for Paw. And Paw wouldn't be here this Christmas.

  "Anyway," I said, not wanting to pursue the subject, "we better get going before Vasti Claus sics the reindeer on us."

  While we handed out gifts, Clifford led the residents in Christmas carols. If Liz noticed that he was watching her while he sang, she didn't show it directly. Still, she tended more to the residents who were close to the singing than to those who weren't.

  Apparently the Secret Santas had done a good job choosing gifts. I heard right many ooh's and aah's. I had always heard that Christmas was for children, but you wouldn't know it from watching these people. They were having themselves a good old time.

  I was on my way back to the tree to pick up another gift when I saw one man having troubles getting his package open. "Can I give you a hand with that, Mr. Biggers?" I said, after checking his name tag.

  "That would be real nice," he said.

  I pulled the paper off for him, broke the tape holding the box shut with my thumbnail, and then put it back on his lap so he could open it himself.

  "Thank you kindly." He pulled the box top off, looked inside, and grinned like the cat who ate the canary. "My, my, my," was all he said.

  I looked in to see what had him so pleased. The box was filled with copies of Playboy and Penthouse. Mr. Biggers turned a few pages and grinned even wider. "My, my, my."

  I saw Vasti approaching, and I guess Mr. Biggers did, too, because he slid the lid back on top of the box.

  "Did you get a nice present?" Vasti asked brightly.

  "I sure did," he said. "Just what I wanted."

  "Aren't you going to show it to me?" she said.

  "Oh, this isn't anything you'd be interested in," he said, with a sideways look at me. "Just a bunch of sports magazines. I dearly love reading about a good game."

  "Well, I hope you enjoy them." She clattered away.

  Mr. Biggers winked at me and said, "Merry Christmas, young lady."

  I wondered if the gift had been purchased by one of the triplets or all three in collusion. Even as children, there had been nothing they enjoyed half as much as putting one over on Vasti. No wonder they hadn't made her a list.

  Encouraged by my success in spreading Christmas cheer, I looked around to see if there was anyone else I could speak to. I saw a wheelchair–bound woman off in a corner by herself. "Hello there Miz..." She wasn't wearing a name tag, and only looked at me balefully when I paused for her to insert her name. She probably never had been a very pretty woman, but with that expression, she was downright intimidating. My Aunt Maggie would have wanted to know how much she'd charge to haunt a house. "Hello there," I finally said. "Did you get a nice present?"

  She mumbled something, and I realized that only the left side of her face was actually moving. The right side just sagged.

  "I beg your pardon?" I said.

  She grimaced and mumbled louder but I still couldn't understand. Fortunately another patient walked up with two cups of punch. His name tag said Frank Morgan.

  "I'm afraid Mrs. Hamilton is a little hard to understand right now," he said. "Just give her another week in physical therapy, and she'll be quoting Shakespeare like that young fellow who was pouring the punch."

  Mrs. Hamilton said something, and this time I caught enough of it to tell that it wasn't very nice.

  Mr. Morgan winced, but just said, "Here's your punch, Sadie," and tried to hand it to her. Instead of taking the cup, she shoved it aside, knocking it out of Mr. Morgan's hand and splashing punch onto the floor.

  "I'll go get something to wipe that up," I said, but Liz must have seen what had happened because she appeared with a paper towel.

  "Accidents will happen," she said smoothly, and wiped it up. "Mrs. Hamilton, did you want another cup of punch?"

  I swear I could see the blood rushing to Mrs. Hamilton's face. She struggled for a long moment with what she wanted to say before finally spitting out, "BITCH!"

  There was a moment of silence, and I knew the whole room must have heard her. Liz went white, and I realized just how young she was. She was probably still in her early twenties, not nearly old enough to be able to take that without it hurting her feelings.

  Mr. Morgan said, "Maybe I should take Sadie to visit with the others." He started to push the wheelchair but had only gone a few steps when Mrs. Hamilton used her good arm to switch on the electric wheelchair and move away from his grasp. I saw rather than heard him sigh, and he followed along after her.

  Everyone else in the room went back to what they had been doing, leaving me and Liz standing there.

  "Are you all right?" I asked.

  "I shouldn't let her upset me like that," she said, more to herself than to me. "She's old and she's real sick."

  "I'm sure she didn't mean it."

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