The 13th Day of Christmas

by Jason F. Wright

  After breakfast, with Zach’s help, Charlee made a slushie with cherry Kool-Aid and snow. Her parents were adamant that she couldn’t play outside, but a quick peek in the backyard at the six-inch blanket of fresh white wouldn’t hurt. They knew the snow wouldn’t last long, and besides, Charlee argued, when had they ever had a white Christmas before?

  Standing just outside the back door, Charlee gazed at Miss Marva’s house across the field and thought the once green,

  dandelion-dotted field looked like white clouds. She didn’t say it, but she wondered in that moment if heaven’s neighborhoods looked like that too.

  After breakfast was cleaned up, Zach looked at his watch and announced that he had one final gift. “Everybody back at the table. I have one more thing for Charlee.”

  “You do?” she asked.

  “Yep.”

  “But I looove the bracelet, Zach.” She jingled it from her left arm and felt the charms tickle her wrist.

  “Just close your eyes. I’ll be right back.”

  Charlee did, but then opened them again when she heard her bedroom door open down the hall.

  Zach whipped his head back around. “I said close ’em!”

  This time she put her hands over her eyes to make sure she wasn’t tempted to sneak a peek. A minute later, she heard his chair at the table squeak when he sat back down.

  “Okay, now say, Merry Christmas.”

  “Huh?”

  “Just say it.”

  Charlee almost shouted the words, “Merry Christmas!” She anxiously awaited the surprise. It took a moment, and she wanted to open her eyes so badly she began to wriggle and bop up and down.

  With her eyes still closed, Charlee heard her mother whisper, “Zach? What’s going on?”

  “Just wait,” he said. “Charlee, say it again.”

  “Merry Christmas!”

  Then, at last, came the scratchy response. “Merry Christmas to you, Charlee.”

  Charlee’s hands flew to her sides and her eyes shot open. She faced Zach’s hand, which was holding her walkie-talkie an inch from her lips. “Miss Marva?”

  “It’s me,” she said.

  “Are you home?” Charlee shouted, and Zach inched the walkie-talkie away from her mouth.

  “I sure am.”

  “Merry Christmas!” Charlee said again. “When did you get home?”

  “Early this morning.”

  Charlee looked at her mother. “Did you hear that? Miss Marva’s home!”

  Emily looked at Thomas with the raised-eyebrow-Mom-look that Charlee sometimes noticed, but didn’t really understand.

  Charlee took the walkie-talkie from her brother and stood up. “It’s a miracle!”

  There was a long pause before Miss Marva added, “You could certainly say that.”

  “Are you feeling all right?”

  “I’m in bed, and I’m very sleepy, but I’m home. That’s all that matters.”

  Zach gave his sister a fist bump, then stood from the table and eased away, smiling at his parents. When he eventually turned his back, Charlee saw her mother nod in Zack’s direction, and her father followed Zach back into their bedroom.

  Charlee got up from the table, then laid under a blanket on the floor by the tree and began detailing her Christmas morning. She ran through each gift and thanked her friend for her apron with a giddy gush of enthusiasm.

  “I could tell Mom loved it, too.”

  “You could?”

  “Uh-huh,” Charlee said, and she sat up and looked to see if her mother was still in the kitchen. She wasn’t, and Charlee whispered, “She cried when I put it on.”

  “My. That’s nice. I’m so glad you liked it.”

  Charlee described the gold bracelet she’d gotten from Zach and each of the charms. “There’s a tiny monkey—it’s so cute—a heart, a flower, and a rainbow. He said I can get more charms for it later.”

  “How nice.”

  “And he said he did jobs for you.”

  “That’s true. He’s been very helpful lately.”

  Charlee turned over on her back and slid under the branches of the tree. An ornament dangled down and tickled her forehead. “Have you opened the door for Day 25 yet on your calendar?”

  “I . . . have,” Marva said, though the two words were separated by a cough.

  “Oh!” Charlee yelped. “And I got the 12th Day of Christmas gift.”

  “You did? Already?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “What was it?”

  Charlee jumped up and found the letter. She read it and described the ice cream box and each of the flavors. Then she asked Miss Marva if she knew who Mozart was.

  Charlee’s questions came faster and faster.

  Marva’s responses arrived slower and slower.

  Eventually she told Charlee she needed to rest for a bit. “We can visit again later, all right, sweetheart?”

  “Okay.”

  “Enjoy the day with your family.”

  They said good-bye, and every couple of hours she checked in with Marva for a short visit, or to update her on Zach’s video game or about the walk her parents took alone, or to tell her about the movie they watched together after a late lunch.

  When evening came, Charlee said good night to Marva and set the walkie-talkie on the plastic crate by her bed. And while she was warmly under the covers, her thoughts were across the field.

  29

  The 13th Day of Christmas

  Charlee opened her eyes and was surprised and disappointed to feel so tired. She’d gone to bed early, just like her mom and dad, but when the sun rose, she was still exhausted.

  “Good morning,” her mother said from the kitchen table. She was writing in her journal and eating a bowl of instant oatmeal. “Feeling good?”

  Charlee rubbed her eyes, even though she’d already tried that in her room and it hadn’t worked. “Uh-huh. Just tired.”

  “You overdid it yesterday, didn’t you?”

  “I dunno,” Charlee said, and she slumped into a chair and rested her head on the table, using Melvin as a pillow.

  “Stay here,” Emily got up and returned with a different thermometer, one the hospital had given them. Charlee liked that it checked for fevers on her forehead instead of under her tongue.

  “You’re good,” her mother said, reading the thermometer and setting it aside. “Lots of sleep today, all right?”

  “Uh-huh,” Charlee breathed.

  Emily finished her oatmeal, put her journal away, and helped Charlee pour a heaping bowl of Cocoa Puffs. “I’ve got to go to work. You take it nice and slow today, all right?”

  “You have to go?”

  “I’m sorry, the day after Christmas is very, very busy. I’m already late.”

  Charlee sat up and rubbed her eyes again. She took off her knit cap and rubbed her head, too. But that didn’t shake the cobwebs, either.

  “Your dad is in our room, reading. Watch television or play a game. I’m sure Zach will be up soon.”

  “Okay.”

  “Don’t bother Marva—”

  “Miss Marva,” Charlee corrected.

  “Yes, don’t bother Miss Marva before lunch, all right?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Emily hugged Charlee and kissed the top of her head. “You’re beautiful, you know that?”

  “Not really.”

  “But you are.”

  “Not now, I’m not.”

  “Of course you are.”

  Charlee pointed at her bald head, and her mother swiped her hand away, putting both of her own hands on it and rubbing in soft circles. Charlee sighed at the comfort of her mother’s touch.

  “Hair doesn’t make you beautiful, Charlee. You make you beautiful.”

  She kissed her again, sh
outed “good-bye” to Charlee’s dad, and zipped out the door.

  Charlee stood and looked out the back window. The blanket of snow remained, but Charlee could hear drips and drops from the trailer’s roof, and she knew it wouldn’t be long before the field was a brown, melted swamp. She hoped Marva would soon be out of bed and on her feet to see it, too.

  Zach slept until 9:30, and then he also moved slowly through his morning routine. Charlee watched television while he ate breakfast, and at 10:00, their father announced he had errands to run and would be gone a few hours.

  “Charlee, no walking around the neighborhood, got it?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “What about me?” Zach said.

  “Fine, you can walk, but no driving. She can drive, but no walking. Fair, champ?”

  “Ha-ha, Dad,” Zach said, and Charlee thought he fake-laughed a little too loudly for the occasion.

  Thomas walked out the front door carrying the newspaper and his cell phone bill. “Back soon.”

  Charlee and Zach played his new video game until he became frustrated, and Charlee suggested they play one of the older games he had already mastered.

  At 11:00, Charlee asked, “What time is lunch usually?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Mom said I couldn’t talk to Miss Marva until lunchtime.”

  “Lunch is usually at noon for most people, I guess.”

  Charlee hesitated. “What time do you have lunch?”

  “Today?”

  “No, at school, on a regular day?”

  “Um,” Zach looked up at the ceiling as if checking a clock, “I think, 11:20. Yeah, that’s when we go for lunch.”

  Charlee spun and rearranged her knit cap. “I think we eat at 11:45. I think. But I haven’t been to school in a while so I don’t remember for sure.”

  The two talked and theorized about lunch times around the world and in various time zones. They suggested that old people, like Miss Marva, always ate earlier, and Zach explained what it meant when restaurants said they had an early-bird special. By the time they were done talking and laughing, Charlee really didn’t have to wait until the traditional lunchtime; it was noon.

  She skipped into her room for the walkie-talkie. “Good morning, Miss Marva, are you there?”

  She did not reply.

  “Miss Marva?”

  Zach suggested she could be sleeping, or in the shower, or on the phone and unable to answer. Charlee waited a few minutes before Zach nodded and she tried again. “Miss Marva, are you awake? Hello? It’s Charlee and Zach.”

  Charlee set the walkie-talkie on the table in front of her and waited.

  Zach walked to the window and looked across the field.

  “Hello there.” Charlee thought Miss Marva’s voice, though low and tired, sounded like an overdue Christmas carol.

  “Hello! Are you awake?”

  Her response was slow. “Yes, I’m awake.”

  “How are you today?” Charlee asked.

  “Fine, tired but just fine. How are you?”

  Charlee got up from the table and went into her room, closing the door behind her and climbing onto her bed. “I’m tired, too. But feeling okay.”

  There was another long break before Miss Marva said, “Christmas was exciting, wasn’t it?”

  “Uh-huh. Mom says I overdid it.”

  “She’s right,” she said, before another long pause. “Like I always say, she’s a smart one. And your father is, too.”

  “Yeah,” Charlee said, and she waited out the silence until she became worried Marva might have fallen asleep again. “Miss Marva?”

  “I’m here.”

  Charlee stood up and walked to her window. “I wish I could see your smile today.”

  “Me too, Charlee.”

  The chatter continued until Charlee offered to let Miss Marva rest for a few hours. “I’ll check on you later, all right?”

  Miss Marva agreed, and the conversation soon died.

  At 3 p.m. Charlee tried her again but got no reply. She passed the time by arranging her 12 Days of Christmas gifts along a shelf in her room. She’d even saved the packaging of the ones that were long gone. There wasn’t much room, so she packed them in a tight but careful order: the CD of the guy she’d never heard of; two purple gloves; one rolled up, empty paper wrapper that had once held a loaf of French bread; four stuffed birds that made her smile whenever she looked at them, especially at Big Bird; a Krispy Kreme box; six Hawaiian leis; seven small rubber ducks; two of the eight Milk Maid caramels—she’d already eaten six; a stuffed dog named Lady; ten plastic parachute men; eleven kazoos; and an empty variety box of Drumsticks.

  At 3:20, she tried Marva again and sang songs to wake her. She sang “Silent Night,” then “Joy to the World” and even the revised version of “The 12 Days of Christmas.” Nothing worked, so she distracted herself by reading through each of the twelve letters again and making a list of things she still needed to ask her parents about.

  At 4:00, Charlee looked through a fat folder of homework the school had sent home weeks earlier. Most of it was easy stuff, and she knew she had lots of time to get it done before going back to school. But she also knew what the adults in her life knew, too. She wouldn’t be going back to school anytime soon.

  At 4:15, with her mother still at work and her father out running errands, Charlee had finally had enough. She put on her coat, gloves, and her thickest wool cap and woke Zach from a nap on the couch. “Zach, are you awake?” She shook him. “Zach? Are you sleeping? Zaaach. Zach.”

  “Huh?” he finally said, lifting his head from the couch cushion.

  “It’s Miss Marva.”

  “What?”

  “She’s not answering.”

  “She’s probably asleep. Like I was.” Zach rolled over and pretended to snore, exaggerating his breathing and making pig-snorting sounds.

  “Very funny, Zach. Come on. I want to check on her.”

  “Maybe she’s gone out. Not home.”

  “Come on, Zach.”

  “Try the walkie again,” he said, and Charlee pulled on his arm until he sat up.

  “No, I want to really see her.”

  “Charlee,” Zach said, and Charlee thought he lowered his eyes just like an adult would. “You know you can’t walk over there. You promised Dad.”

  “I know, I know, I know.” Charlee smiled. “But you can.”

  Zach walked very slowly across the backyard. “You okay up there?”

  “Yep, keep walking.” Charlee clung to Zach’s shoulders and Melvin the monkey clung to hers.

  “You know we’re going to get busted,” Zach said. “Look at the prints in the snow.”

  “Just keep walking. There’s only one set.”

  Zach stepped through the fallen fence and nearly tripped.

  “Don’t drop me!” Charlee said.

  The closer they got to Miss Marva’s house, the more excited Charlee became. “Hurry, Zach.”

  “I’m not a horse, Charlee.”

  “So what?” she said. “You can be one today.” Charlee pulled on his shoulders like reins. She couldn’t wait another minute to be inside Marva’s house. She hadn’t visited her friend in her own home since Thanksgiving—since the day everyone’s life had changed. “Come on. Hurry, Zach.”

  He didn’t let her feet hit the ground until they’d arrived at the back porch. They both knocked, but no one came.

  “Miss Marva?” Charlee shouted through the closed window. “Miss Marva?”

  No response.

  “Now what?” Charlee asked.

  “This.” Zach pulled a house key from his jeans pocket. He unlocked and opened the door. “Come in. But be quiet.”

  They entered through the kitchen. “Miss Marva? Are you home?”

 
They stopped in the living room, and Zach put his arms on Charlee’s shoulders. “Wait here.”

  Charlee looked around the room. Even with the tree and some of the other decorations on loan in her own home across the field, Miss Marva’s house still appeared to have been the model for a holiday gift catalogue. Charlee looked at the Advent calendar and noticed that the doors for the first twenty-five days were open, but empty. The unusual door marked “26,” however, was still closed. She walked toward it and reached for the golden star knob when she noticed a white envelope sitting flat next to the calendar, blending in with the decorative white cotton fabric.

  Charlee picked it up and found her name scrawled on the front in small, cursive handwriting. She opened the envelope and removed a single piece of stationery with a red bow and silver bell border.

  December 26

  On the 13th Day of Christmas

  my true love sent to me

  the most valuable gift of all:

  FAITH

  Dear Charlee:

  It’s here! The 13th Day of Christmas has finally arrived.

  I’m so happy that you’re home for the big occasion. I have been praying for you, and I will continue to pray for you in this life and the next. That’s what we do for the people we love.

  I hope you’ve enjoyed the first 12 Days of Christmas and the quirky twist on the song. I know who’s been writing the letters, but I am sworn to secrecy. I’ll confess that I might have given them the idea, but that’s it.

  I will also confess that I shared the idea on the condition that I got to write the final verse. It only seems fair, right?

  I don’t mind if the Traveling Elves remain a mystery forever, that’s up to them. But I wanted you to know exactly where Day 13 came from, because it’s the most important day of all.

  Charlee, I also want you to know that this isn’t my first year with the 13 Days of Christmas. Long ago my husband used to write these fun stories for a different family every year. We started the year after our son, J.R., died, but when John also passed away, I just couldn’t carry on the tradition without him.