by Carol Matas
I love Christmas, but oh, how I wish Thomas was here — when are we going to get some word from him? This family has been torn apart for too long. Thank goodness we got Sarah and her family back, but Christmas always makes us think about Caleb and Daniel being sold off all those years ago. I don’t think Mama and Papa could bear it if we lost Thomas too. I know I surely couldn’t.
And I miss Noah too, even though I’m glad there are two other coloured children in my class this year. I didn’t like being the only one in our class after Noah left to work on his family’s farm, but it’s not just that. I truly do miss Noah.
Never thought I’d see the day when I said that, considering how he used to provoke me when I first met him. How things have changed! I’m still hoping he’ll come back to school some day. For someone who’s real smart and loves learning, it’s a shame he left. I can’t blame him, though. Those white boys made his life a misery. I don’t know why people are so mean.
Saturday, December 23rd, 1865
Father Miller came round to our house. Sent Mama into a flurry, fixing tea and cakes for him, but he put her at ease. Complimented her on her cornbread. Said it was the best he had ever eaten. There’s nothing like Virginia cornbread, Mama always says. Nobody up here in Canada makes it near so good.
Anyway, the reason he came round is because he wants me to sing a carol at the evening Christmas service. All by myself! At first I didn’t know what to say, then I got real enthusiastic. We fell to deciding what I would sing. We finally settled on “Joy to the World.” I love that carol. I just love singing it out as loud as I can.
Sunday, December 24th, 1865
Church this morning. I couldn’t concentrate on Father Miller’s sermon. Too busy thinking about singing tonight. Not really worried — everybody here is so nice. Mama’s been working hard and she made me a brand new bright red dress. She braided my hair up around my head and Papa brought home a red ribbon for me for a Christmas present. I am going to look grand.
Later
How can I even begin to describe what happened at church tonight! I don’t have near enough time, and I’m still too full to bursting with all the mixed feelings inside me. I think I’ll just go to bed and hold it in my heart until I can find time to write about it properly.
Tuesday, December 26th, 1865
It’s really late, everybody is asleep, and I can finally write what happened. I have a new candle beside me and I think I’ll be using most of it up before I get everything written down.
Because it was Christmas Eve, we decorated up our house with evergreen boughs. I do love the smell of them in the house! Mama made us a good stew with lots of meat in it and Sarah baked up a storm while I minded the babies. Liza is walking all over the place now and I have to watch her real careful or she’ll get into trouble. I never would have believed it, but Joseph is actually a help with her — she follows him around all the time and he doesn’t mind a bit. Actually likes it. And our own little Aleisha is beginning to toddle around and she’s determined to follow him too. Keeps him busy, especially when it’s too cold to take them outside. It’s right amusing to watch him with those babies.
Missus Frost sent over a roasting chicken for us to have on Christmas Day, even though we don’t live on their property anymore. That was generous of her, and it certainly was welcome, especially for the reason I’m going to write about.
After our supper we went back to the church. It looked so beautiful from the outside, with candles glowing in the windows and frost making pictures that looked just like fine lace all around them. Father Miller didn’t give a regular sermon, just recited the Christmas story. We all sat so quiet. Sarah held Liza with Miles beside her, and I could see tears in her eyes when Father Miller came to the part about the Wise Men bringing gifts to the baby. I was almost crying too, but my stomach was telling me to get nervous about singing all by myself, so I didn’t.
We sang hymns and carols, and everyone was in the spirit and clapping and having a wonderful time. Then Father Miller came over to where we were sitting and led me up to the front by the hand to sing my carol. I stood there, took a deep breath, and just let that song roll out, loud as I could. All my nervousness melted away. I could feel myself filled with the joy of it.
Then suddenly the door opened and somebody walked in. Everybody turned to see who had come so late. It was a boy in a dirty, tattered blue soldier’s uniform.
At first I thought it was Thomas and my heart gave a lurch. I stopped singing right in the middle of the last verse. Then I realized it wasn’t him and I near burst into tears, but the next minute I saw it was Jeremiah, that boy who persuaded Thomas to go down South with him to fight with the Union Army. If he was there, I thought, he must know something about Thomas! I couldn’t help myself, I just raced down the aisle toward him. I saw Mama and Papa give me a horrified look, then they saw who it was and they ran at him too. What a commotion! Everybody in the church got up from their seats and poured around us.
“Jeremiah!” Papa shouted. “Is Thomas with you?”
Jeremiah just shook his head. At the look on his face, everything went real quiet.
“He’s not dead,” Mama cried. “Oh, Jeremiah, tell me he’s not dead!”
Jeremiah just shook his head and for a moment he couldn’t seem to speak. Mama’s knees suddenly gave way, and Papa grabbed onto her to hold her up, but he was shaking bad as she was.
Finally Jeremiah spoke. “No, ma’am,” he said. “He’s not dead, but he is wounded. Wounded bad, I think. Last I saw, they were carrying him off the battlefield to a hospital tent somewhere. When the fighting was all over, I tried to find him, ma’am. I tried the best I could, since I’m the one got him to go back there with me in the first place. But I couldn’t. Figured the best thing I could do then was find you folks and tell you.”
Father Miller came down the aisle and held out his hand. “Welcome, son,” he said. “Welcome back from the war. We’re mighty glad to see you.” Then he turned to me. “Come on, girl,” he said. “You’ve got a song to finish.”
Well, I did not think I could sing another note. My mind was just all jumbled up and I didn’t know whether I was happy or not. All I could think was, Is Thomas still alive? And if so, where is he? Why hadn’t he come back, too? What if he died from his wounds?
But Father Miller put his arm around my shoulder and led me back up to the front. He started in to singing where I had left off and I couldn’t do anything else but join him. My voice shook and I had to hold myself tight to keep the tears back, but with Father Miller’s arm around me I got myself together. I wasn’t singing with the joy I had been feeling before though. I was singing a prayer.
I’m just too plain worn out to finish this now. I’ll save the rest of the candle after all and finish this up tomorrow.
Wednesday, December 27th, 1865
Jeremiah came home with us for Christmas dinner, but he’s going back to Toronto. Says he has a better chance of getting a job there, and he wants to be there when Thomas comes back, to tell him where we are. He’s sure when Thomas finds out we’re not in Toronto anymore, he’ll go to Reverend Brown, at the church where we used to go, and Jeremiah will find him there.
Mama doesn’t want him to leave. He’s so tired and worn, she can’t bear the thought of him making that trip back through the cold and the snow, but he’s determined. I think Mama feels closer to Thomas while Jeremiah’s here, but Papa agrees he should be in Toronto when Thomas gets there.
If he gets there. Nobody is saying it, but we’re all thinking the same thing. What if he didn’t get better from his wounds? What if …?
But I won’t believe that. I refuse to believe that.
Thomas is alive and he will come back to us.
That will be our very own miracle. I know it.
This family has been through a powerful lot, but tonight we all sat around the table and linked hands, and thanked the good Lord for His blessing. Papa added a prayer for Thomas and for Daniel and Cale
b. We’ve never heard anything more about them since they were sold off, and maybe we never will, but wherever they are, if they are still alive, they are free men. There’s no more slavery in the United States of America, and there never will be again.
Even so, we won’t be going back. Canada is our home now, and it’s a good one.
While the events described and some of the characters in this book may be based on actual historical events and real people, the characters are fictional people, created by the authors, and their diaries are works of fiction.
Introduction copyright © 2009, 2012 by Scholastic Canada Ltd. All rights reserved.
The stories in this book are the copyrighted property of their respective authors.
“Untangling Christmas” copyright © 2009 by Jean Little.
“An Unexpected Visitor” copyright © 2009 by Marsha Forchuk Skrypuch.
“Something That Matters” copyright © 2009 by Carol Matas.
“These Three Gifts” copyright © 2009 by Maxine Trottier.
“When War Hits Home” copyright © 2009 by Julie Lawson.
“Reading Henry” copyright © 2009 by Sarah Ellis.
“The Daft Days of Christmas” copyright © 2009 by Julie Lawson.
“Shirley Goodness” copyright © 2009 by Perry Nodelman.
“A Time to Rebuild” copyright © 2009 by Maxine Trottier.
“Like a Stack of Spoons” copyright © 2009 by Jean Little.
“Singing a Prayer” copyright © 2009 by Karleen Bradford.
Interior illustrations of Anya Soloniuk, Devorah Bernstein, Charlotte Blackburn, Sally Cohen, Eliza Bates by Susan Gardos.
Interior illustrations of Fiona Macgregor, Geneviève Aubuchon, Flora Rutherford, Jenna Sinclair, Josephine Bouvier, Julia May Jackson by Colin Mayne.
Cover illustration by Greg Ruhl.
Illustration copyright © 2009 by Scholastic Canada Ltd. All rights reserved.
Published by Scholastic Canada Ltd.
SCHOLASTIC and DEAR CANADA and logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.
All rights reserved under International and Pan–American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read this e-book on-screen. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher, Scholastic Canada Ltd., 604 King Street West, Toronto, Ontario M5V 1E1, Canada.
ISBN: 978-1-4431-1997-9
First eBook edition: December 2012
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