THE LAST GHOST OF CHRISTMAS

by Jesse Colt

  The scent of the small pine wreath teased his nostrils as he dozed under the warm comforters. Then the ever-present spirits began to shoulder in again, their dark forms casting ominous shadows over the images of the white sands. Once, many years ago, all his images of Christmas had been glowing and warm. He tried to remember when the spirit of Christmas had begun to fade away for him….

  It still had substance during his stint in the Air Force, the night they had walked down to the parliament buildings in Ottawa and listened to the carillons playing Christmas carols. The magical feeling was still there at midnight when he had phoned his parents back on the frozen prairies. It was alive and well in his college years when he had driven home through the falling snow to spend Christmas with them two years later.

  His drowsing mind led him back to one special night long ago. It was the evening before Christmas Eve. The magic of the season was still there. It was the first Christmas that he and Anne realized they might soon be spending their holidays alone. Tania had begun dating and both she and Christine had hinted that they were going out with friends on Christmas Eve. He knew it bothered Anne now that the girls had boyfriends and were more interested in spending Christmas with their schoolmates than the family. It bothered him too, but he had the smooth rye to blunt the ache.

  Anne had moved onto the couch, cuddling close to him, wanting to talk. When she found him sullen and unresponsive, she had retreated to their bed. He had followed and soon felt her warm hand on his shoulder. He lay there for a moment, tempted to turn and take her in his arms. He knew how passionate she could be. Even now the thought of her lovemaking brought a flood of warmth to his loins.

  The sound of a car pulling into the driveway had caught his attention. He heard Tania calling to Brandon, their huge shepherd. Jim was relieved that she was home early, and he listened as she left the kitchen and hurried up the creaking stairs to her room. He lay rigid under Ann’s warm hand until she withdrew it.

  Was that the night that the spirit of Christmas had begun to slip away? The night the girls began moving towards womanhood. The night he no longer responded to Anne’s need for a friend and a lover.

  It seemed that ever since that evening long ago, the true meaning of the season had begun drifting beyond his reach. For a time, he had fought desperately to recapture it, but it had been like trying to grasp a vapour.

  He tried to remember some of the little things that had once made Christmas special for him. Shopping for the children’s toys, the sound of carols on the car radio and the falling snow against the Christmas lights. The flame of Christmas warmth had flickered on occasion, but it had never re-ignited again. Then it was gone!

  He would wake up with a thundering head and plod numbly to the kitchen for a coffee, realizing that Christmas had passed him by again. The departing season left only the dreary memory of missed opportunities, gone like the bright Christmas bows he had discarded into the battered trash can.

  He snapped upright on the firm cot, banging his stocking feet onto the floor and grabbing for his warm boots. He was determined to escape the remembrances that were flooding the tiny room.

  Pouring a cup of hot coffee, he hurried past Geezer, still sitting silently in the last row. He slumped down a few seats away. Geezer seemed lost in his own private memories. He did not acknowledge Jim’s presence.

  Jim sipped the coffee and looked around the silent church. The pain of the lost Christmases was still there. He tried to fix a blame to it. Surely someone had stolen the magic from him. He heard approaching footsteps. He realized Nester was standing beside him!

  “Hey! What are you guys doing? You and Geezer look like a couple of dreary old monks. You bastards taking up religion?”

  Jim rose quickly to his feet, trying to shake off the hard memories. Geezer stirred in his cold pew. He looked guilty. Guilty of being caught in a church, silently praying for things he felt he didn’t deserve.

  “How is it going, Nester? You have any luck with the generator?” Jim asked, hoping to take Nester’s attention away from his own somber countenance.

  “Hey! Almost running. I replaced the main bearing. Cleaned up the rings. Set all the pole pieces. It should run like a charm. Just have to dry it out some more. The insulation is still damp. The stator is full of frost. I got the crews putting stoves in there. A couple of shifts and the unit will be warm. Then we can start it and set up the controls.”

  “Two shifts, Nester!” Jim shook his head. Nester was setting up shifts, organizing everything around him, just like he did back at the base. He appeared to be enjoying himself.

  “We’ll be long gone!” Jim insisted. He looked at Nester’s lined face. He knew his hard-driving companion had hardly slept since they had landed, but there was something else in his weary expression. Nester appeared completely relaxed and a strange inner peace seemed to light his countenance. Jim didn’t like it. The look didn’t fit the fierce Ukrainian!

  Nester glanced at him then quickly focused on the towering tree. “Come on! Priest wants to see us all. Says he has a favour to ask. Maybe he wants us to line him up with a horny broad,” he chuckled.

  Jim rose to his feet feeling better. Nester was starting to sound like himself again.

  He followed Nester and Geezer to the priest’s office. He still didn’t like the expression on his companions’ faces. They had the manner of eager choirboys, anxious to please their minister. When they walked in, the priest greeted them warmly. Two elders were seated beside the priest. They smiled and nodded expectantly at their guests. Jim was suspicious. He felt as if he was walking into a trap. One of the villagers began to pour steaming cups of tea. He offered the liquid around. This was not a chance meeting. Jim could sense they had something important to discuss.

  For a minute they exchanged pleasantries and then the priest began. “The elders think there will be break in the weather for a few hours,” he looked uncomfortable as he paused and gulped his tea. “I expect that you may want to leave as soon as the moon comes up, but….”

  Jim shivered at the tone of the priest’s words. Anything except a hasty departure was completely out of the question.

  The priest fixed his eyes on Geezer. “There is an old woman waiting for a chance to visit our village for the holidays. This may be her last Christmas. We were hoping you could pick her up and bring her in before you fly south.”

  Geezer returned the priest’s stare. There was no sign of emotion on his weathered face, only a look of bliss as he gazed reverently at the priest’s chaste white collar. A stiff hand swiped at the dripping red nose. He stared down at the floor before scratching the thatch of gray hair on the back of his rough neck. Jim knew the old Scotsman had a reputation for being cheap, a man who would milk nickels every time the opportunity presented itself. He waited for Geezer to name his price. Jim was certain it would be exorbitant, hi enough to discourage their interest.

  “Well, if you was to give us some of that aviation fuel you got in your store house, enough to top up our tanks before we leave for Yellowknife, that would about make it square. Where is her village?”

  Jim wanted to protest! Anything could happen during the flight! What if they damaged another ski? What if the decrepit old plane froze in on some isolated lake?

  He watched helplessly as Geezer scratched the stained gray beard forming on his craggy chin. “I’d need one of the lads here to come along in case we freeze into the snow after we land.” He cranked his stiff neck around to Nester. Jim waited for Nester to put an end to this insanity. He knew that he would find a reason if they turned to him.

  Nester gave an indifferent shrug. “Yeah. I guess we could. You got enough gas in your tank now or do we top up first?”

  Nester seemed to be falling into the cunning priest’s trap.

  Geezer scratched his stubbly chin again. “Maybe we should bring out one of the barrels and top her up.” He looked at his shattered
wristwatch, shook his hand and tapped the cracked crystal with a blunt finger.

  Jim watched in dismay, wondering if anything the old pilot owned was in working condition. Nester silently raised his own wrist and pulled back the heavy sleeve on his parka, exposing the expensive timepiece to Geezer’s watery eyes.

  “Well, I guess if we was to pull the petrol out now, fuel it up and run her for a few minutes to make sure the gas is good. She would still be warm by the time the moon come up. The lads have been heating the engine with hot rocks, so she should fire up okay. Want to give me a hand, Nester?”

  Nester shrugged into his parka as Geezer squinted at the rough map the priest had sketched for him.

  “Jest that small lake on the river is there? I didn’t even know there was a village out that way,” Geezer muttered.

  “No. There is no village, but the elders have arranged for a team to meet you on the ice where the river forms a delta. Do you think you can find it?” the priest rapped the crude sketch with a pencil.

  Geezer’s watery eyes focused on the rough drawing. He pulled a bent pair of spectacles from his pocket; one lens was missing. He squinted through the other glass and traced a shaky finger over the outline. “I found tougher places with less than this.” He jammed the paper deep into his pocket and struggled into his parka. Jim watched as Nester pursued the hunched form into the arctic night.

  The elders had followed the conversation with obvious satisfaction. They finished their tea, smiling at the priest. Jim slumped back, trying to control the frustration boiling up inside him. The old men accorded his grim features a quick nod and hurried after Nester, delighted to assist in the fueling of the ancient Norseman.

  Jim sat stiffly in his hard seat. He had visions of the plane disappearing into the gloom, leaving him stranded in this remote village.

  Father Bob stretched his creaking arms over his head in what was becoming a familiar motion. He smiled at Jim. “Your friends are very magnanimous. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to go along. It will be a beautiful evening when the moon comes up.”

  Jim shivered at the thought. “Father, how did you do that? Geezer has a reputation for being the cheapest, most miserable old bastard in northern Canada. And Zary, it’s not like him to volunteer for anything.”

  The priest smiled again. He seemed satisfied with his accomplishment. “Jim, I have acquired some knowledge of human nature over the years. One of my original career objectives was to be a personnel manager for a large corporation. Might have worked out. Who knows? Now you take old Geezer. For years he has been hauling corpses down south, overcharging the government, and flying without proper documentation. He probably has a list of sins longer than….” he struggled for the words, not wanting to condemn the old man. “Well, longer than many of us. He hasn’t been near a church or a priest in a good many years. He was once a good Catholic, too, I’m told. And at his age, every time he hauls another mortal remains south, you can bet he considers his own mortality. Maybe he wonders how soon he may be riding in that back seat himself. Now, here he is, stranded in Old Bow with time on his hands, walking into a church and meeting a priest several times a day. He gets an opportunity to put a few points on the board for his side. Well, it’s nice to have a servant of the Lord marking your score card.” He smiled at Jim. He appeared eager to continue the conversation, but Jim was in no mood to oblige him.

  “You understand people pretty well,” Jim snapped. “Did you ever think you might be using him?”

  “No! No, Jim.” He stood up and spread his arms to the sky. Jim knew he was putting on a performance for his sake, but he was not impressed.

  “Hallelujah!” the priest sang out. “For a few hours he is just a tool of the Lord! Bringing in an ailing grandmother to see her family. The gas is government and shall tax him nothing. And praise be for the rest his failing kidneys are receiving.”

  He looked at Jim’s stony face and dropped the exaggerated facade. “Besides, I told you there might be some Christmas miracles taking place up here.” He raised his eyebrows waiting for Jim’s response.

  Jim shook his head. “Father, all I see is a manipulative old priest holding up my departure for the Caribbean. But I’ve got to ask you this. The old woman they’re going after. Is she Little Fawn’s grandmother?”

  “Well I ain’t really that old, Jim, but yes, indeed. I believe an angel promised the child that her grandmother would arrive home in time for Christmas. So, we had better deliver, hadn’t we!” He leaned forward in his chair hoping again for a reaction from Jim.

  “Father, you have to do something about that kid,” Jim shot back. “She thinks we’re angels and you’re not doing a damned thing to show her differently!”

  Father Bob stretched his aching back again. It was obvious that he was enjoying Jim’s discomfort. “Well you know angels are pretty hard to define, Jim. Even the Bible is not that explicit. They have been known to come in all shapes and forms. Who am I to destroy a little girl’s faith.” He poured another cup of tea and grandly offered the pot to Jim.

  “You’re a priest, for God’s sake! You’re supposed to tell the truth!” Jim shot back.

  “Yes, but how can I be certain. By the way, you did promise that sweet child that her grandmother would be home for Christmas? Tchh, Tchh, Tchh,” the priest chided and grandly sipped the cup of tea.

  “Well, no. I didn’t. Not exactly.”

  “Her grandmother is very special to that little girl. Are you saying you don’t want to be part of making her Christmas wish come true!”

  Jim sat back on the cold chair again, fixing his eyes on the Yule wreath behind the priest. He could not feel real anger or disappointment. A few extra hours wouldn’t make much difference. He was still concerned about the window in the weather. If it didn’t hold, they could miss another chance to escape. Still, he couldn’t begrudge the plane trip, not as long as he did not have to venture into the dangerous icy sky.

  “Jim, you look a little shaky. Could I offer you a drink?” He pulled a bottle from the drawer. Jim recognized the package. It was the gift-wrapped bottle he had given Nester for Christmas, back at the base. Nester had not even bothered to remove the nametag.

  “Present from a visiting cousin of mine,” the priest laughed. He reached over and poured Jim a generous shot.

  Jim accepted it with a shaking hand. The priest raised his cup of tea and took a long swallow. “You know, Jim, what I miss most here? This might surprise you. I miss someone to differ with. The Dene are a very diplomatic nation. You couldn’t start an argument with them if you wanted to. I used to debate at University. I don’t suppose you would be interested in debating some contentious issue now, would you?” the priest laughed. “I must have said something to offend you.”

  “Father, you have said lots of things this evening that offend me, but I’m still not in the mood to argue.”

  “No, I understand that, as an engineer and a scientist, you really believe that you can explain everything you encounter, don’t you, Jim.”

  “Yes. I do, but I don’t want to argue over that either.”

  The priest poured a generous shot of rye into his tea and favoured the cup with an appreciative smile.

  “Very well, it’s no fun arguing with someone who does not wish to contest issues of controversy. Besides, I still believe that before you leave here you might change your agnostic engineering mind.”

  Jim leaned forward, a response boiling up inside him. Then he saw the delight in the eyes of the huge red head. He would not give him the satisfaction. His anger was dampened as Nester swept back into the room.

  “Shit!” he announced. “Old Geezer has more help now than he knows what to do with it. There is no reason for me freezing my ass off out on the lake. I’m going back and grab a couple of hours sleep before we take off,” he chuckled. “Got to rest up for all those horny babes down south. Hey, you guys having
a drink? I could use a good shot. It always helps me sleep.” He was already extending his cup towards the huge hand with the bottle.

  Father Stait eyed Nester for a long minute. “You know, Nester, at your stage in life you should be looking for a stable relationship. Not chasing everything that wears a skirt.”

  “Hey!” Nester sneered, “what does a damned priest know about women and relationships. I was married for close to 20 years!”

  Jim thought he could see the hint of a smile on the priest’s face as the huge hands poured a stiff drink and pushed the heavy mug across his cluttered desk. “Sit down, Nester. I think you need a little guidance from someone who knows more about women than you might think.”

  Jim swallowed his drink and rose unsteadily to his feet. If the priest wanted someone to argue with, he had picked the right person. Nester would contest any issue. The priest might be a skilled debater with several university degrees, but he had never had to pit his skills against anyone as sharp as this quick-witted Ukrainian.

  “Nester, I’ll go see how the dryout is going on the gen set. Have a nice friggin flight across the pack ice!” He tossed back the last of his drink.

  Jim hurried through the church, zipping up his parka, trying to remember the last time he had been warm. There was a small knot of people clustered around the short-wave radio. For a moment he felt a sense of gratification for the happiness he had brought them. At least he would be leaving them a small Christmas present. Probably one of the first ones he had not put on his credit card in many years. He passed the towering tree again. There were several wide-eyed youngsters gathered before this magnificent symbol of Christmas, admiring the decorations on the splendid pine, sniffing its pungent odour and pointing to the Christmas angel at its apex.