She pulled on her gloves and wrapped her worn dark green scarf around her neck. Then she pulled her matching knit cap over her head. “Anything you need while we're in the city? I'm a little jittery about the long drive, but Mark put snow chains on the tires to make sure we'll be safe.
"Mark has something in mind for the kids that he said he can't make. Said he saw it in one of the stores the last time we were there. Once we get there, we might find out we can't afford it, but he's determined to look."
"You know you don't have to buy anything from town. The children are well used to homemade presents."
"I know. And so does Mark.” She glanced around the room with a conspiratorial gleam in her eyes. “I'm not exactly sure what it is since he won't tell me, but I have a feeling the little boy in him found something they could all use."
* * * *
Half of Harmony Falls showed up to fill the church to see Mark Donovan marry his beautiful Madelyn Stepson.
Mark entered from a side door with the preacher, the two engrossed in conversation. “You're absolutely sure now?” the man said.
"I am."
"No more questions?"
"None."
The preacher straightened his collar. “None a'tall?"
"None!"
"Well, iffn you're that sure, then let's get this wedding started.” He reached over to pick up his Bible off the pulpit.
Whispers echoed all through the church. Mark had to smile at their comments.
"I knew all along they'd get married. You could see it in their eyes."
"Knew each other from children, they did. Their folks promised them then."
"Woulda thought the girl had more sense than to marry a man as poor as her brother."
"Shh,” filled the room as the organist started to play.
"Well, you know he used to—"
"Shush, Emaline!” said the organist.
With the start of the wedding march, the congregation turned to the back of the church. John Stepson escorted Maddy to the front of the church. Her hand resting on his elbow, entirely prim and proper.
The preacher asked, “Who gives this woman to this man?"
And propriety left the day. John said, “I do.” Then he spun Maddy around so she was facing him and lifted her in his strong arms so he could kiss her and give her a rowdy bear hug. As soon as the bride quit laughing and wiped lipstick off his face, he set her on the ground and all comedy disappeared. He told Mark, “She's all yours now. But she's the only sister I have. So love her the absolute best you know how. Treat her kindly. Like our daddies did our mamas."
Mark stepped forward and took Maddy's hand. Yet he continued to face John. “I'll do all that and more. I'll love her the way you love my sister.” He let go of Maddy's hand just long enough to pull John close to him and clasp him on the back.
"Deal?"
"Deal."
Mark crossed to Maddy, took her hand, and faced the preacher. “We're ready now."
"Dearly Beloved, We are gathered here together in the presence of God . . ."
* * * *
"They're here! They're here! Wake up, Mama and Daddy. Uncle Mark and Aunt Maddy just pulled up. And I know one of the presents Uncle Mark's going to give her for Christmas.” Tommy giggled.
Susie shook her head. In his excitement, Tommy jumped up and down on his parents’ mattress.
"You do not,” Kathie yelled, clearly aggravated she had nothing to tell.
"Do too. He might paint it for her. She said she's tired of seeing black everywhere."
"Tommy!” she and John yelled in unison.
"If that is really true, don't you dare say one word about it before Uncle Mark has a chance to tell her,” she ordered. “Is that clear young man? If you do, I swear I'll take all your presents away from you."
Tommy appeared close to tears. “I won't, I promise I won't."
They all went downstairs in their nightgowns, pajamas, and robes, and met the newlyweds on the doorstep.
"You can still come right on in, you know. You don't have to stand on ceremony and knock just because you don't live here anymore.” Susie giggled like a happy child.
"What's so funny? Or do I want to know?” Mark teased.
"You can both walk right into our house, and John and I can just walk into yours—any time we want."
Mark almost started to protest, but then joined in the laughter. “That sounds like a good idea. Only stipulation for that is that if our—or your—bedroom door is closed, it will remain closed and no one will barge inside. Deal?"
"Deal,” John and Susie answered.
Mark and Maddy had come over in their pajamas and robes. Though he'd never once thought of it in Chicago, Christmas Day wouldn't be the same without the old tradition.
Stockings hung from the fireplace mantle, no doubt filled with nuts and maybe an orange from Santa. This was the Depression—the Great Depression some were calling it now—yet a glance at the tree showed presents under it.
"Tommy, you want to hand out the packages, or would you like me to do it this year?” he asked.
Susie stood. “Actually, I think I'd like to do it if you don't mind.” She smiled, but Mark saw pain in her eyes.
He crossed to her after the kid's rousing “okay” calmed down. “Hey, Sis, are you all right? Are you sure you can do this? I can—"
She laid her hand on his arm, then stood on tiptoe to brush a kiss across his cheek. “I can do it, Mark. I want to do it. It's going to be a very special day. For all of us."
She bent to pick a package and handed it to Tommy. “This is to you from Uncle Mark.
Tommy ripped into the homemade wrapping paper covered in colored candy canes and pulled out a wooden wagon with a pull string on the handle. The wagon had been painted red and the wheels were black. Inside the wagon sat another box. “Mama, Daddy, look what Uncle Mark gave me. A real wooden wagon that moves! Look, the wheels turn. They aren't just glued on like some I've seen.” He ran to Mark and gave him a hug. “Thank you Uncle Mark. This is the bestest present ever. And it even carries things in it.” He pointed. “See, there's another box."
"Well, maybe you should open the other box and see what's in it then,” Maddy said, trying not to giggle.
Process repeated. Tommy tore into the homemade wrapping paper—this one decorated with colored blue bells drawn in all sizes—and threw it into the wagon while he stood in shock. He clearly wanted to scream in delight or shout in pain. “I-I think I got someone else's present by mistake.” He turned to look at Kathie. “I think she—"
"There's no mistake, Tommy. Come here a minute. Let me show you something.” Mark opened the box. “Look. Inside are real Crayola crayons. Come count them with me—one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight! You have eight crayons that belong just to you. And you don't have to share—unless you want to."
Tommy sat on the floor and used the pull-string to pull the little red wagon closer. A pad of paper sat in the bottom of the wagon bed. “Is this mine, too?"
"Oh yeah,” said Mark as he sat beside Tommy on the floor and crossed his legs Indian style. “And look, there's black, brown, blue, red, purple, orange, yellow, and green.” He pulled Tommy on his lap. “The wagon's from me. I built it for you. Took a while to figure out the wheels, but actually Aunt Maddy has to get that credit. She figured out how to make them turn. And the paper and the crayons were her idea, and they're from her. So you need to give her a big hug, too."
Tommy jumped up and threw his arms around Maddy's neck. “Thank you, Aunt Maddy. I love you."
"I love you, too, Tommy."
Susie handed a small package to Kathie. When she tore away the Christmas tree decorated paper, she squealed. “My own crayons! Oh, thank you Uncle Mark and Aunt Maddy. And this is . . .” She turned the pages of a pamphlet, her eyes growing wider with each page. “Oh, Aunt Maddy, did you do this for me?"
Maddy smiled.
Kathie turned the pages around so her parents could see. “M
y own coloring book—and Aunt Maddy drew the pages. See, she fastened the pages together with a ribbon."
"You can either paint the pages or color them with your new crayons. I'm glad you like it."
Susie glanced toward John, then handed a large box to Maddy. “Read the card first."
Maddy was on the floor in front of the tree. Much neater with the wrapping paper than Tommy had been, Maddy took her time opening the box and then read, “To my dearest Maddy. I love you as if you were my own child. Wear this to keep you warm through the winter and to always remember how much you mean to me. Merry Christmas. Love, Mama Caroline."
Her gaze flew to Mark's and her hand clapped over her mouth, stifling a gasp. “Oh my. I never expected. I never. I. . ."
Mark moved closer to her and leaned her back against him both for physical and moral support. “Open it, darling."
She did, and showed everyone a beautiful pale blue, plush bathrobe. The stitching was perfect, and it had buttons down the front as well as a matching sash. Mark held her as she cried. “It's so beautiful. I wish I had known Mama Caroline was doing something like this. How did she know it's exactly what I need?” She raised her eyes heavenward. “Thank you, Mama Caroline. It's perfect—just like you were. I love you, and I miss you. Love, your new daughter—Madelyn Stepson Donovan. I love him, Mama, and I promise I'll take good care of him. Merry Christmas."
Not knowing what else to say, she lowered her eyes and eased her head in the crook of Mark's shoulder.
"Here's one for Kathie.” Susie handed her a package Mark and Maddy had brought over.
Kathie showed almost as much impatience as Tommy in opening her package. She squealed in delight as she opened one container after another. “Nesting dolls! Oh, thank you, Uncle Mark and Aunt Maddy.” She had all the pieces placed on the floor. “Look, it's an entire family. There's even a teeny-tiny baby."
"Here's one from us,” Susie said.
Soon Kathie cradled a stuffed brown teddy bear in her arms. She ran to hug her mother and father. “Tommy, look. My bear's eyes are the same buttons Mama gave us to use on our snowman. Only they're smaller."
"Here's another one for Tommy.” Susie cast an exasperated look at Mark. “I told you not to—"
"It's Christmas, Susie. Let the boy open his present. This one's really for all of us."
"A yo-yo! Oh, Uncle Mark, it's a yo-yo. Thank you. Wait ‘til the kids at school see what I got."
Mark pulled him close. “Here, let me show you how it works.” He inserted his middle finger in the slip knot. “You wind the string around the axle and then throw the yo-yo down.” He stood and threw the yo-yo down so the string unwound. “Jerk the string back up so the yo-yo will travel back up the string to your hand, then grab it and throw it back down again.” He chuckled. “We can do this all day. There are instructions on how to do different tricks."
"Told you,” Maddy teased as she locked eyes with Susie.
Paper lay all over the floor—some of it no more than newspaper. The presents that had been inside would be cherished all through the year.
"Kathie, here's one for you.” Susie looked at John and her eyes welled with tears. He stood and came behind her, wrapping his arms around her.
"We've never had this many presents before,” he said. “Considering the Depression, we've definitely been blessed.” His eyes dipped to watch Kathie on the floor. “Can you read the note, sweetie, or do you want Mama to do it?"
"I can do it,” she said proudly. “To my precious granddaughter.” Her eyes shot up to John and Susie, then returned to the piece of paper. “I love you more than life itself. You remind me so much of your mama when she was your age. Although this one is diff . . . erent than the one I made her when she was a child, I hope you'll treas . . . treasure it as much as she did hers. Love her as I love you. Love, Grandma.” Seemingly afraid to move, she finally opened the box and drew out a Raggedy Ann doll. “Oh,” she whispered, hugging the doll to her chest.
"What's wrong, honey?” John asked.
"The buttons on the dress are the same ones she put on the last dress she made me."
Not a dry eye was in the room.
John finally cleared his throat. “Susie and I already have our presents, he told Mark and Maddy. We found them in Mama's room the day Susie went up to do some cleaning. The day you guessed she'd been crying. We found all the presents and read the notes. Was hard not to cry after that."
Susie held up the sweaters their mother had crocheted for them. “I'll treasure these forever,” she said, one lone tear streaking down her cheek.
John bent and picked up one last package from under the tree. He walked to Mark. “This one's for you."
Mark chewed on his lower lip. Didn't move to take the gift.
Maddy placed her hand lightly on his arm. “Take it, sweetheart. You know Mama Caroline wanted you to have it."
Mark took the package and read the note. He got up and walked to the window to look outside, then cleared his throat. “I'm not sure I can do this."
"Yes, you can,” Susie said. “Mama loved you so much."
"What did the note say?” Maddy asked.
He moved back near the tree and sat beside Maddy, picking up the note again. “To my wonderful son. Thank you for coming back to me. I missed you all the years you were gone. Life isn't always easy, but always know I love you—and that God loves you. Merry Christmas, my son. Always remember, ‘Be still and know that I am God.’ Love, Mama."
He tried to speak and couldn't. Instead he opened the package. He pulled out a knitted dark gray sweater, with matching neck scarf and hat.
Finally he spoke. “How did she know? She was already dead when—"
Everyone frowned. “Know what?” John said.
"The Bible verse. How did Mama know what would happen?"
"I don't know what you're talking about,” John told him. Both Susie and Maddy looked just as confused.
"While I was in Chicago, the local fuzz weren't too pleased with vagrants all over town. I saw one pulling a drunk up out of the gutter. Looking down his schnozzola at him with disgust.” He quickly looked to Tommy and Kathie. “Sorry,” he told Susie. “The copper told him to scram, and I figured that was my cue, too. So I did.
"I went into a church down the street and sat in a pew. Wondered what I was really doing there. Was God laughing at me? Thinking me beyond hope? That's what I thought of myself.” His eyes rose to John's. “I started praying, and God told me I was throwing my life away.” Mark's eyes swept everyone in the room. “It'd been a long time since I listened to Him. I thought it about time I started again.
"I sat in the pew like a lump on a log. No one else was in the church, but I swear I heard, Be still and know I am God. How did Mama know that before she died? How could she possibly . . ."
Maddy held him while he composed himself. Finally he looked up again. A sense of peacefulness surrounded him. “Mama knew. Somehow she knew."
A tic jerked John's cheek. He reached behind the sofa for a package and handed it to Maddy. “I don't understand it anymore than you do, but this is for both of you."
The large package wasn't decorated for Christmas. Maddy tore away the newspaper to reveal a beautiful ivory quilted bedspread.
John handed Mark a small, folded piece of paper. “This was with it."
Mark clenched his fingers, then stretched them open and took the note. His voice wavered as he read, “My dearest Mark and Maddy. This is for your wedding. Remember, each person in a relationship must give one hundred percent of themselves to make the marriage work. None of this fifty-fifty stuff you hear all the time. Make your home the center of your life and Christ the head of your household. Let your love shine in all you do. My prayer for you is that you be as happy as I was with your daddy. I love you both. Love, Mama."
An overwhelming sense of love filled the room. Mama's love and God's love. They were both there.
* * * *
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> Christmas Wishes and Second Chances
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Amy Blizzard
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[Back to Table of Contents]
Amy is a freelance writer and Indiana native. Her work has appeared in: Vegetarian Teen Online, Teen Hollywood, N2Arts, Baku's Zine, The Christian Online Magazine and Club Romance. She currently is a columnist for The Georgia Jukebox and has a young adult novel available. She appears in: Recipe for Love, Love Under the Mistletoe, Flames of Gold, On a Cold Winter's Night and the upcoming The Miracle of Love.
* * * *
You can find Amy on the Web
amyblizzard.blogspot.com
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Chapter One
* * * *
Snowflakes swirled in the air, gracefully landing on pine trees packed into the abandoned downtown parking lot, waiting to be purchased and taken into apartments and houses all over Evansville, Indiana to bring a bit of Christmas cheer.
"Do you like this one, honey?"
Elle Hennessy turned her head at the sound of her mother's voice and glanced at the tall tree she was inspecting. “Sure, Mom."
"Oh, you barely looked at it. But then again,” she said, grinning, “I guess I should just be grateful you're here with me. I still remember those lectures of yours, during your teenage years when you said you were sick of pine needles and sap, and you insisted it was time to do away with tradition and get an artificial tree."
Elle smiled back at her, surprised to remember there had been a time when she had ever tried to change the holiday routine of a true traditionalist like Marla Hennessy. With her red coat, silver bell earrings, and green headband resting in her bobbed blonde hair she was a walking example of old-fashioned Christmas spirit.
"I still insist one day soon Dad is going to electrocute himself on those tangled, ancient, golf ball size lights he keeps up in the attic. But I guess so many years of tiny trees that were so gaudy even Charlie Brown couldn't love them crammed onto a desk or countertop in overcrowded dorm rooms and apartments has made me more accepting of your traditions."
On A Cold Winter's Night Page 7