THE LAST GHOST OF CHRISTMAS

by Jesse Colt

  He examined Angie’s radiant features and studied her gentle expression in the light of the remote stars. He realized then that she was beautiful! It was a sensual beauty that flowed from her soul and radiated over her lovely face.

  The northern lights were dancing again, their flickering patterns casting faint shadows on the snow and sending a strange unfamiliar chill up his spine. They rolled across the sky, a shimmering pattern that seemed to herald the coming of Christmas on this most sacred of evenings.

  Jim examined his watch in the pale twinkle of the stars. It was past 10:30 p.m. In a few hours it would be Christmas day. He tried to focus his weary eyes on Angie. He realized this was the first time he had ever stood in the arctic night with anyone and truly appreciated the splendor of the North.

  The ghostly wind had vanished without a trace. The northern lights shimmered across the endless stretch of black ice where the distant glow called his attention to their magical dance. Legends told that on nights such as this, one could hear the distant lights ringing like miniature bells. It was an easy myth to accept and tonight his spirit was open to the fables of the north and the beauty of this special evening. In his imagination he could hear the bells, tinkling over the distant horizon.

  He snapped back to reality. The chimes were not in his imagination! The faint sound of Christmas bells tinkled from the sky. This was impossible! Surely his mind was playing tricks on him. Thank God he would be in the Caribbean in a few days.

  He listened again. The sound had vanished. Jim breathed a sigh of relief and examined the plane waiting on the ice, where the attendants were again packing the engine with hot rocks.

  He shuffled uneasily on the crisp snow. The sound returned. It was the sound of bells! A rhythmic tinkling, like sleighbells in the snow or the background sounds of a grade school Santa Claus play. They seemed so real. He looked at Angie. A look of wonderment was playing across her features. She turned to him, squeezing his hand deep inside the warm mitten. A small gasp passed over her sensuous lips.

  Where was the sound coming from? He almost expected to see Santa Claus gliding across the sky. He watched Angie’s astonished face as she strained to see past the lights of the scattered village. Then he saw the mystical presence--.

  It appeared as a smoky shadow, a mysterious vapor that seemed to tremble over one of the distant cabins. The image was only visible for a second before it flickered away and melted onto the rooftop of the next cabin.

  The shadow seemed to be flitting from rooftop to rooftop. It couldn’t be! He closed his eyes and reopened them quickly. The faint form was still there, moving across the dark sky, like some ghostly specter without dimension or substance. The sound of bells followed the specter across the rooftops. He felt Angie’s hand press into his own. She was staring at the village, watching the same ghostly spirit gliding across the tree line. The sound of sleigh bells reached their ears again, like some distant echo from the stars. They exchanged astounded glances. Their voices were locked in their throats. When they looked again, the shadow seemed to melt away, fading into the dark pines. The sound of the bells dissipated.

  “Jim?” she whispered; her voice was trembling. She seemed incapable of forming a complete sentence.

  Jim didn’t answer. He strained to locate the sound of the fading bells. Then the magical sound reappeared. The sound of bells across the ice….

  They turned back to the lake. He could hear them clearly now, growing stronger and as pure as silver chimes over the frozen surface. From somewhere far, far away came the sound of approaching sleigh bells.

  He stood in the silence holding Angie’s hand, trying to convince himself that he was not imagining the sound. One of the massive church doors gaped open, throwing a pale silver flush onto glistening snow. Father Stait stepped into the night and stretched his stiff arms to the sky. Jim felt like kneeling before him. The priest was looking across the frozen lake. He had heard the sound too.

  “What is it?” Jim gasped. He was staring at the priest wondering if he was about to witness a miracle.

  “The teams!” Father Bob said simply. “The teams are coming in. We are blessed tonight. We have heard the bells across the ice.”

  The church began to empty as the congregation moved out to join them, listening for the magical sound. Slowly, ever so slowly the ringing tones grew. Then he could see them, small dots appearing in the distance. The approaching dogs began to bark, knowing they would soon be home with their comrades and comfortable kennels.

  The silence about them was shattered. The bells drowned out by the laughter of the women and the happy sound of families waiting for their men and their Christmas gifts.

  For a few minutes there was pandemonium as the teams pulled in. Some of the goods were hastily unloaded and passed amongst the happy throng. Soon all the laughing children had candies. Jim watched as one of the men pulled a pair of long red flannel underwear from a sleigh. He rushed at his victim, holding them up against the embarrassed owner who had had the misfortune to place his order with the town’s practical joker. The villagers squealed with delight until finally the recipient seized the undergarments and crammed them under his parka. Jim watched this display of merriment, but he noted that many of the parcels were held back, then spirited away to be placed under the expectant Christmas trees.

  The crowd began to disperse. Jim was left alone with Angie and the mysterious beauty of the night. The priest approached them and called out to Jim.

  “Little Fawn wants to say good night and thank you and Nester for everything, particularly for bringing her grandmother in. She has already expressed her gratitude to Geezer.”

  Nester and Jim walked self-consciously towards the hushed church, awkward and embarrassed by the little girl’s gesture. Little Fawn was with her mother. Jim looked down at the child clutching her mother’s coat. Her face was radiant from the excitement of Christmas Eve and the arrival of the gift-laden teams. He knew Little Fawn’s mother would not see her man coming in, but she had her daughter and her mother had joined them for one more Christmas. The tight look he had found in her eyes earlier had melted away during the priest’s service. Tomorrow would still be a good Christmas for her and her family.

  The little girl smiled up at them. Jim was aware of Nester standing at his side.

  “You are going away soon, aren’t you? You won’t remain in our village to celebrate Christmas?” There was a tear in her tender voice.

  “No, we can’t stay any longer, Little Fawn. We have to fly out while the weather holds.”

  Nester was watching the child closely. The hard look had melted from his flinty eyes.

  “I have a present for you,” she laughed. “I have a present for both of you. I helped my mother cut the rabbit fur,” she announced proudly. “That is the most important part.” Nester looked over at Jim. His eyes were brimming.

  Her mother handed Little Fawn two pairs of heavy moose hide mitts, fringed with beads and lined with rabbit fur. The tiny hands passed a pair to Nester. The graying beard trembled a little as he thanked her. His voice had grown tight, his words unsteady.

  The light spilling from the open door of the church illuminated the ice crystals forming over Nester’s head. His breath seemed to be crystallizing in the motionless air. She turned and handed Jim a pair.

  “Thank you. Thank you very much, Little Fawn. This is a very beautiful gift. I’ll think of you every time I wear them. I’ll never forget who gave me these.”

  The tiny face glowed with his remarks. “You’re welcome,” she said. She crossed herself and curtsied deeply.

  “Little Fawn!” he chastised. “Didn’t I ask you not to curtsey to me?”

  “My Grandmother told me again that you always curtsey when you speak to angels.” She was emphatic now. Her tiny voice was filled with confidence. Her wise old grandmother had come home for Christmas and reinforced her protocol with angels. />
  Her mother turned to lead her away. Little Fawn was tugging against her parent’s firm hand. Her mother paused in the doorway to exchange greetings with one of the villagers. The little girl peeked around, watching Nester and Jim trying on their new mitts. She flashed her radiant smile at the pair standing in the pale light radiating from the church, shrouded under the glow of the floating ice crystals. She was staring at her visitors as if witnessing a vision. Her wondrous dark eyes grew wider and the perfectly formed lips gaped open. Jim tried to guess what had caused the look of wonderment in the little girl’s eyes.

  Then he heard the strange resonance. It was the sound of an electrical arc spitting across a small gap, mingled with the tinkling of tiny bells, a bottle of champagne being opened on New Years Eve. The foreign sound was a puzzling mixture of beautiful tones, but none he could identify. He looked over at Nester. The strange buzzing sound seemed to be emanating from somewhere in the cloud of ice crystals forming over Nester’s cold shoulders. Jim squinted in disbelieve. Just above Nester’s shaggy head, amid the floating ice crystals and frost, he was certain the small silver cloud was crystallizing, turning into a perfectly formed glowing halo. He watched the ring of shining white light form into a precise circle over Nester’s rugged features.

  Jim glanced at Little Fawn. Her face was beaming in the doorway. Her own convictions had been verified. Nester was staring at Jim. A twisted grin showed through the heavy beard. Jim started to reach up. Surely, he didn’t have a halo as well!

  The second door opened, sending a flood of light across the steps. Nester’s halo vanished! Nester shook his head and glanced at Jim, blinking his eyes as if to reassure himself that they were still functioning. Jim could tell from the expression on Nester’s face that his own halo had vanished. He looked at little Fawn. She waved a tiny hand and granted them one last farewell smile.

  “Hey! Come on. I’ll pour you a real Christmas drink!” Nester’s voice was tight and unsteady.

  “Come on Angie. Come and have a drink with us. It’s Christmas Eve now!” he encouraged.

  “No. Thank you!” she laughed. “Haven’t you heard. Mary Sunchild has gone into labor. I have to see how she is doing. Wouldn’t it be a miracle if she had her child on Christmas Eve!” She flashed her familiar smile at them and hurried into the crisp night.

  “Hey! Too bad,” Nester laughed. “She ain’t a bad looking chick for this part of the country.”

  Father Stait appeared in the doorway. The lanky frame seemed to fill the entire structure. He moved down the steps and strolled over the drifts towards them. The night had grown quiet again. They could hear the crunch of his boots on the crisp snow.

  “Red Bear has something for you, Jim. I believe it came in with the sleighs. He has asked that you drop over and see him.”

  Jim frowned at the priest. He knew there was no point in asking what Red Bear had. He had been commanded to visit him. He looked to the northern lights. They were fading again. The electric flickering had died away.

  He mumbled an excuse to Nester, turned and plodded across the pine-sheltered walk to old Red Bear’s cabin. A faint yellow light fell from the cabin window, leaving a golden trace on the pristine snow, like a scarf discarded by some mystical fairy. He stepped to the cabin entrance, took an uneasy breath and rapped on the solid pine door.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The heavy pine door glided open, silently inviting Jim inside. He squinted into the dimly lit chamber. He could see the elderly figure seated in a heavy wooden rocking chair near the fireplace. The chair was lined with plump pillows. Thin weathered lips smiled warmly at Jim as if he had been expecting him. The medicine man’s face was lined with wrinkles, cured to a bronzed leather by campfire smoke and northern winds. Jim guessed his silent host was deep into his eighties. Despite his advancing years and weathered appearance, he still sported a full head of white hair and the lean body seemed to radiate an energy found in men many years his junior. Heavy braids trailed down his back. A few strands of black were threaded into the silver cables, dark reminders of his youth, when he had known a very different way of life. The rich braids fell over a faded buckskin jacket and he wore matching leather britches almost grey with age. A new set of hi-topped moccasins graced his feet, heavily beaded and trimmed with white rabbit fur.

  He focused his piercing dark eyes on Jim. They sparkled with a wisdom accumulated from countless generations who had walked the circle of life before him. There was a genuine warmth in his features that immediately put Jim at ease. Jim examined the old man’s smile and perfect teeth, white and glinting like the polar ice caps. The sparling teeth accentuated the bronze skin, making the weathered face appear even darker in the pale light of the lamp and the flickering radiance from the fireplace. Jim stepped inside and closed the heavy door behind him.

  He squinted into the crackling fire then nodded to the buckskin clad figure. He was eager to receive whatever small token the old medicine man might have for him, so he could finish packing and flee the web the village seemed to be spinning around him.

  The thin hands motioned to a comfortable chair by the dancing fire, but his host remained silent. Jim reluctantly settled into the cozy seat. There was something about the feel of the old chair and the atmosphere in the neat cabin that put him at ease. The two men were separated by a roughhewn coffee table with several books displayed on the dark pine surface. Two of the volumes were hard cover, the others paper backs. None of them appeared to have been read. Jim suspected that the old Dene was illiterate. He recognized recent copies of National Geographic and MacLean’s on the same table. These were current issues and he guessed that they had arrived on the sleds from Fort Simpson. A small stack of lined scribblers and two fat pens were crowded into a corner of the same table. Perhaps the old man intended them as gifts for children in the village.

  “Merry Christmas,” Jim greeted the smiling figure. He unbuttoned his bulky parka. It was warm by the fire, but he had not yet overcome the chill of the frigid night.

  “It’s a beautiful night out there. I really enjoyed the service.” He was certain the old Dene did not understand English, but he felt like a fool sitting there, saying nothing.

  “Hummph!” the deep voice responded pleasantly, as if in total agreement with all of Jim’s opening comments.

  Jim relaxed in the welcoming chair and examined the cozy cabin. The door to the bedroom Nester had occupied was closed. He wondered where the giant husky had gone. The rough log walls of the cabin were covered with the trappings of a passing civilization; hand-made snowshoes, rusting traps, lanterns, furs and axes. A small Christmas tree was set up in the opposite corner. Someone had decorated the tiny pine with silver ornaments. The decorations were slowly revolving in the gentle air and reflecting the red and blue flames dancing in the fireplace. There were no signs of running water or electrical outlets.

  He looked down at the old Dene’s side. A faded buckskin knapsack spilled its contents on the floor next to his moccasins, revealing two fresh packages of tobacco, a few magazines and several gifts the shadowy figure had not bothered to unwrap.

  Jim settled back on the soft cushions. Silence reclaimed the room, the hush broken only by the snapping birch logs on the fire. The lean hands reached down to the ornate pouch at his side. He dipped in and removed several objects, including a bulky piece of mail. The slender fingers carefully replaced the contents in the satchel, then extended the letter to Jim.

  Jim’s hands trembled as he drew the packet closer, flipping it over to read the address in the flickering light from the fireplace. He had already guessed what the envelope represented, even before he recognized Tania’s hurried handwriting.

  His fingers began to shake. She had not abandoned him! He was so moved that he could feel the tears welling up and he had to blink them away in order to read the hasty penmanship on the front of the envelope.

  It took a full minute for his shaken m
ind to realize that he was holding his most precious Christmas gift. The envelope was deliciously plump and adorned with a heavy frill of postage. He stared at the letter, running his fingers across the bulging envelope, fearful that it might all be an illusion. His heart was pounding. A missing portion of his life was coming together again, multiplying the joy of the season a hundred-fold.

  It was Tania’s letter! He tore it open with trembling fingers. There were at least ten double-sided typewritten pages squeezed inside. He folded the papers back and crammed the precious sheets into the taut sheath. He pushed the envelope securely into a deep pocket of his parka. He would devour it page by page, later, in the privacy of his own room. Now it was enough just to know that it had finally arrived.

  He was so overcome with emotion, that the absurdity of the letter’s arrival escaped him. Then the slow realization spun from the depths of his fogged brain. He withdrew the letter and examined the small packet again to be certain that it was real.

  “The teams brought this in. How could they? How could they know I was here? How did they even get it? That’s impossible!”

  The silent figure had been browsing through the rawhide bag on his knee, mentally cataloging the items and removing those that caught his interest. He slowly raised his head in response to Jim’s rude statement. A faint puzzled look crossed his brow as he tried to comprehend the reason for Jim’s agitation.

  “Hummph,” he responded. It was a noncommittal monotone. An acknowledgment of Jim’s question, but no indication that he shared his deep concern.

  “This letter is post marked December 23. That’s yesterday! The postal service couldn’t get it out of town that quick. They can’t do anything on time.” Jim remembered the slow pace of the mail crawling through the arctic. “That was just yesterday!” He shook the envelope at the puzzled face that seemed unmoved by his outburst.