The Christmas Portrait

by Phyllis Clark Nichols

  Remembering all that made me and Daddy smile a little. “I wish Mama was here this year to hear my lines and to hear Chesler sing.”

  “I wish she was here too, Kate. I wish she was here all the time.”

  Before he said good night he told me he had to go in early for a meeting so Granny Grace would be here to get us ready for school. He kissed me on my head and went to the door. Then he did what he always did, turned around and said, “Little peep?”

  And I said, “I know, no more peep from me.” He turned out my light and closed the door.

  It was quiet tonight, so quiet I thought I heard the snow falling. Some nights when it was quiet, I could hear Daddy down the hall, sitting in Mama’s rocking chair in the sewing room. The floor creaked when he rocked, and I could hear him crying. He missed Mama so much, but I thought he cried too, because he was a paramedic, and he took care of people, but he couldn’t make Mama better. He took care of Chesler when he got the fishhook caught in his leg and when he smashed his finger in the car door. Chesler kept Daddy busy with his accidents, but Daddy said cancer wasn’t like having an accident.

  Some nights I could hear Chesler crying, and I tried to get to his room before Daddy heard him because it made Daddy so sad. I would just lie down by Chesler, and we’d sing the songs Mama would sing quietly until he went to sleep. Mama had said I had to be their rock sometimes.

  And some nights when I didn’t hear Daddy or Chesler, I’d just put the pillow over my head so I couldn’t hear my own self crying. I tried to remember what Mama said. Faith. Family. Forever. I missed Mama so much.

  CHAPTER TWO

  I WOKE UP THE next morning before my clock went off, and I was thinking about Christmas. We never had Christmas before without Mama. It wouldn’t be the same. Nothing was the same. Like this morning, if Mama were here, she’d be waking me up just like she did every morning, opening all the curtains and diving into my bed beside me. Mama was gentle about most things, but not about getting up. She got up early every morning and thought the whole world should be up. Granny Grace told me it was because Mama was born at 5:00 a.m. and her clock was just set that way. I think Mama was born happy too. And if I didn’t have a happy look when I woke up, she’d say, “Get that grumpy look off your face, Kate. You think life’s gonna be better today because you’re grumpy?”

  She’d tickle me to make me laugh and say, “Time to get up and get going. God gave us another day to make somebody happy. That’s our job—to make somebody happy today.” Then we would lie quiet for a minute so I could think of one person I wanted to make happy that day. Every night before I said my prayers, Mama would ask, “Okay, Katie J, so who smiled today just because of you?” If I could tell her a name and what I did to make that person happy, then I could put the smiley face on my calendar. It was not easy to make somebody else happy every day when my happiness went to heaven with Mama, but I knew Mama would want me to try.

  I was remembering early mornings with Mama when I heard Granny Grace coming up the stairs. She didn’t look much like other grannies because she wore boots and blue jeans and her barn jacket most of the time, but she acted like one. She was a good cook, and she was kind most of the time. But she also knew how to boss people around like nobody’s business.

  I could get my own self ready for school, but Chesler needed help. Granny fed us and dropped us off at Cedar Falls Elementary School. We were about to get out of Granny’s truck when she announced, “It’s Friday, and you two are in for a big surprise tonight.”

  “The Blue Cow Cafe?” Chesler asked. We went to the Blue Cow Café up at the lake every Friday. It had a dock where we would sit in the summertime to watch the trout jump. Miss Bonnie, the owner, didn’t even have to take our orders. When we sat down, she would yell to the cook, “Four Harding specials.”

  “No, going to the Blue Cow wouldn’t be a surprise!” Granny laughed. “You’ll see.”

  Waiting on that surprise made that Friday one of the longest days of my life. Daddy picked us up after school, and we went grocery shopping. When we got home, Daddy said Granny Grace and Aunt Susannah Hope and Uncle Don were on their let’s-make-somebody-happy-today assignment. Aunt Susannah Hope was Mama’s sister. She was red-headed and pretty like Mama, but she was serious about everything, not fun like Mama. Daddy always said Aunt Susannah Hope was skinnier than a knotty pine and her springs were wound too tight. Uncle Don was just what she needed. He was bald and chubby and laughed a lot, mostly at himself, and he didn’t mind taking orders.

  It was almost dark when they all showed up at our house with the big surprise: two boxes of pizza and a truck full of a Christmas tree and cedar branches. Uncle Don bought the tree down at the Christmas tree lot next to Smithson’s Hardware store. Daddy and Uncle Don squeezed that tree through the front door, and Granny Grace was right behind them, sweeping up pine needles and telling them to hurry and get the tree inside before the pizza got cold.

  After supper Aunt Susannah Hope said, “Kate, you and Chesler go get your favorite Christmas cassettes. We need to listen to some music while we decorate. And you big guys, get that Christmas tree vertical while I make the spiced cider.” Aunt Susannah Hope knew Mama always made cider.

  When the tree was standing at attention in the corner of the living room, Granny Grace started giving out orders like she did when she led the Fourth of July parade downtown. “John, you and Don get the Christmas decorations out of the attic. And Chesler, help Kate bring the small boxes into the living room.”

  Just when the smell of cider drifted into the living room, Granny Grace shouted an order to Aunt Susannah Hope. “Now don’t you go scrimping on the cinnamon sticks.” Granny knew how we liked our cider, and she knew my aunt. The music was playing, the cider was bubbling, and it looked like somebody dumped last year’s Christmas in our living room.

  The lights went on first, then the red and green balls, then we could open the special boxes. Chesler and I stayed out of the way while they were stringing lights, and when we had covered the bottom of the tree in balls, Daddy put Chesler on his shoulders so he could put some around the top of the tree.

  Granny Grace tied cedar branches to the stair railing with red ribbon. She said to Daddy, “Now, John, I didn’t get around to cutting any holly today because of the snow. Maybe you can take the kids for a walk down by the stream and cut fresh holly berries to go in the garland.”

  I knew Granny meant well, but I didn’t really want to pick those berries. If we did, then the redbird would go deeper into the woods to find her food, and she wouldn’t sit in the cedar tree while I washed the dishes. But I didn’t say anything in front of Granny Grace. Her face turned red when someone didn’t like her ideas.

  When Granny finished with the garland, she started opening other boxes and taking stuff out, and Aunt Susannah Hope was right behind her trying to keep up. Only she wasn’t opening. She was closing up the empty boxes and stacking them up at the bottom of the stairs. My aunt liked things neat. No clutter at her house. Daddy said it was because she didn’t have children. Mama didn’t mind clutter sometimes, but she did like clean.

  I kept my eye on the three special boxes. The two red boxes were for the ornaments Mama made every Christmas, one box especially for me, and the other box for Chesler. My box had nine ornaments, and Chesler’s only had four. I could hear Mama say, “One of these days you’ll get married, and I’ll give you this whole box of ornaments for your very first Christmas.”

  The third box, a gold one, held the ornaments we made for Mama. When I was three I made my first ornament in Sunday school—just a white paper cup with some glitter and stuff glued on the side, and turned upside down to look like a bell. It didn’t really look like a bell, but Mama put it on the tree anyway and bought a special big box for it when Christmas was over. That bell made Mama smile so big I got to put two smiley faces on my calendar that night. And ever since I’d been making her ornaments for Christmas. Chesler started making ornaments last year, but I made him give
Mama her ornament on a different day from me. That way Mama would be happy two times.

  It didn’t take long to empty those three boxes and put the ornaments on the tree. Daddy said, “It’s time to put the angel on top, and Kate, it’s your year to do that.” He held me up so I could reach the top. That angel’s halo brushed the ceiling.

  Then Daddy said, “Chesler, hold your breath and plug in the lights.”

  Granny squealed when the tree lit up. “Would you look at that? Why, that tree is glittering like all the rubies and diamonds and emeralds in the window at Bishop’s Jewelry.”

  We stood back to gaze at it, and I can tell you, that tree was really something. That morning, the pine didn’t have any idea it was going to a dressing-up party. Somehow our lights and ornaments just made that old tree sparkle.

  “Chesler, go get my small toolbox in the garage. It’s time to hang the stockings.” Daddy opened the box with the four Christmas stockings. Mama knitted one for each of us. When Daddy hung up only three stockings and closed the box with Mama’s stocking in it, Granny Grace went to the kitchen.

  She and Aunt Susannah Hope were getting out the Christmas mugs and the tray of Christmas cookies Granny made. Uncle Don sat down on the sofa to look at the tree, and Daddy disappeared like he did sometimes when Chesler asked him about Mama. He always came back.

  This time he came back with two little red bags. There was some green paper sticking out of the top of the bags, but no ribbon. Then he called us to come to the tree. He said, “I don’t know how to make Christmas ornaments like your Mama did, but I found some in a store I think you’ll like. You can add them to your box after Christmas.”

  Chesler and I had to sit on the floor, back-to-back, to open the bags. Daddy watched. I took out the paper and pulled out a fancy box. Inside was a snow-white ball with a green ribbon on top and a redbird painted right on the side. I turned and saw Chesler had one just like it. I smiled. Daddy didn’t know much about making ornaments, but he knew how to make us happy. We hung them side by side on the Christmas tree.

  Granny Grace called from the kitchen, “Come on! We ate cold pizza, but we’re drinking hot cider before we put out the manger scene.”

  I heard Aunt Susannah Hope tell Granny that she had cleared a place in the dining room for the manger scene. “It’ll be safe there so Chesler won’t break it. You know how he’s always running into things.”

  I shook my head at that. Sure, Chesler broke things, but he couldn’t break the manger scene because it was made out of wood. Besides, Mama always put it beside the fireplace in the den so we could see it and play with it and tell the Christmas story over and over.

  I might have gone to the woods and cut some holly berries even if I didn’t want to so Granny’s face wouldn’t turn red, but this manger scene was not going in the dining room. So I yanked Chesler out of the kitchen while they were pouring cider. “Come on, Chesler, I need your help.” We dragged the manger scene box out of the dining room, opened it, and dumped everything out on the floor, even Mary and Joseph and Baby Jesus and the leftover hay from last year.

  I was getting all the pieces out, and Chesler was balancing one of the wise men on his head, when Aunt Susannah Hope walked in. She nearly lost her breath. I thought she might make a fuss, so I jumped in to explain. “Mama always put the manger scene here so we could play with it.” I pointed to the hearth. If Aunt Susannah Hope made us move the manger to the dining room, I planned to start crying, then Chesler would whine, then Daddy would put a stop to all of it. But Aunt Susannah Hope seemed to lose all her words right then. She just stood there blinking hard.

  Daddy and Uncle Don and Granny Grace came into the den to see what was going on. Granny patted my aunt on the back. “Breathe, Susannah Hope, just breathe.” Granny handed her cup of cider to Daddy and got down on the floor with Chesler and me. She started her parade orders routine again, making sure that Mary and Joseph and Baby Jesus got to their places. “The holy family needs to come first,” she said.

  Chesler picked Joseph up. “He’s not holey. I don’t see any holes.”

  Uncle Don laughed. “Not that kind of holy, Chesler. Holy means dedicated to God, sacred.”

  Chesler nodded and put Joseph down by Baby Jesus. Then he picked up a wise man and started to put it behind Joseph.

  Granny caught his hand. “Nope, not yet. The animals go next. Then the shepherds, because they were the first to get there. And after the shepherds you can put in the wise men.”

  Then Granny told us all about the shepherds and a dark night on a hillside. Granny asked, “What do you suppose the shepherds brought as a gift to the baby?”

  We shrugged. Granny picked up the baby sheep. “Maybe they gave what they had. Maybe they gave the baby a lamb.”

  Chesler said, “No, they didn’t give the baby a lamb because Mary already had one.” Then he started singing, “Mary had a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb.”

  While Daddy and Uncle Don laughed at Chesler, Aunt Susannah Hope got that look on her face like she did when I picked up one of her china dolls. She told them they shouldn’t be laughing and encouraging such behavior. I wanted to zip her mouth shut. My daddy needed to smile for once.

  After we all quieted down, Granny told us about the gifts the wise men brought. We knew what gold was, and she explained about the frankincense and myrrh, how they were spices that smelled good and all. That made sense. A baby born in a barn needed something that smelled good.

  Then Granny turned to us. “What are you going to give Baby Jesus for His birthday this year?”

  Chesler picked up Baby Jesus from the manger scene. “But Granny, Jesus is in heaven, and He’s got everything in the world. He doesn’t need any more presents, and I don’t know if He likes toys.”

  “Chesler, you’re a smart boy, and you’re right about Jesus being in heaven and having everything in the world. So He doesn’t really need anything from us, but I don’t think that’s the point.” Granny motioned for Chesler to come sit in her lap. “Come here, and let me tell you something important.”

  Chesler crawled across the floor into Granny’s lap. “You know when you had your birthday party last summer?” Granny asked.

  “Oh yeah, I remember, Granny. Mama made me a fire truck cake, and I got a dinosaur Transformer, and if I twisted his arm and his head around—”

  I interrupted. “Yes, we all remember the robot, Chesler.” I knew he would never stop talking about that robot, and I was more interested in what important thing Granny had to say about getting a present to heaven for Jesus’s birthday. “So what’s the point, Granny?”

  Granny took Baby Jesus from Chesler and put it back in the manger scene. “The point is, you didn’t need—I mean really need—the cake or the presents you got. But your mama needed to bake the cake to show you she loved you, and we needed to give you presents to celebrate you, Chesler. Do you understand? Jesus doesn’t need our gifts, but we need to give them. And when we give Him our best gift, no matter what it is, it makes Him so happy.”

  I knew Chesler didn’t get it, and he was probably still thinking about that robot turning into a dinosaur, but I got it. I turned around and reached for the matches on the hearth. “Granny, can we light the Christ candle now, sort of like it’s Jesus’s birthday candle?”

  Before Granny could answer, Aunt Susannah Hope said, “I don’t think that’s a good idea. It could set the straw on fire.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” I didn’t want to, but I put the matches down.

  “Speaking of gifts, I found something for you kids, and I just can’t wait till Christmas to give it to you.” My aunt stepped into the kitchen and came back holding something that looked like a bucket covered in an old sheet. “I hope you like it. You can hang it near the kitchen window, and you don’t even have to take it down after Christmas. Chesler, would you like to take the drape off?”

  Chesler looked at Daddy to see if it was okay. Daddy nodded his head. Normally Chesler would have snatched that sh
eet off in a hurry, but he didn’t. Maybe like me he had a funny feeling about what might be inside.

  Chesler pulled the drape off slowly, dropped it on the floor, and stared at what he’d uncovered. Then he backed up, bumped into Daddy’s leg, and buried his face in Daddy’s khakis.

  I stared too and clenched my fists. Why would Aunt Susannah Hope think we’d want a dead-looking stuffed redbird in a gold cage? I took the sheet and covered up the cage so we wouldn’t have to see it anymore. Then I turned on my aunt.

  “We don’t want it.” Aunt Susannah looked shocked and nobody said a word, so I turned to Daddy. “Take it, Daddy. Chesler and I don’t want it. Please get it out of here.”

  Daddy grabbed me. “No, Kate. This is a gift. Your aunt thought you’d like the redbird, to remind you of your mama just like I thought you’d like the redbird painted on your Christmas ornament.”

  Chesler was still holding on to Daddy’s leg. “But it looks real, and it looks dead.”

  “And it can’t fly or sing, and it’s in that stupid cage,” I said.

  Then Chesler started crying, and I couldn’t stop shaking and started crying too. “Chesler’s right. The bird in that cage is dead and cold and stiff.”

  Granny took my hand. “We hear you, Katherine Joy. Don, maybe it’s best if you take that out of here for now.”

  But even when the cage was gone we kept crying, and Daddy didn’t seem to know what to do or say. Finally he pointed straight up the stairs. “That’s it. Both of you to your rooms right now. I’m not having this kind of behavior.” His face meant business.

  I ran up the stairs and dove into my bed. I didn’t wait for Chesler. I just heard his door slam. I didn’t care if he was crying or not, and I didn’t care if Daddy was mad, and Aunt Susannah Hope was upset. I just wanted Mama. Why couldn’t Aunt Susannah have died instead of Mama?

  It wasn’t long until I heard the front door close and Uncle Don’s truck pulling out of the driveway. I lay still until I heard Granny talking loud to Daddy downstairs. She wasn’t mad; she just talked loud ’cause she couldn’t hear too good. I got up and went to my door to listen.