THE LAST GHOST OF CHRISTMAS

by Jesse Colt

  He retreated to the tiny room. The small electric lamp was shining on the dresser. The room was warmer now and the small fan drove a constant stream of tepid air into the spartan accommodations. It was the first time the small apartment had not been bitterly cold. Somehow it did not feel right. Jim seized the handle on the heating vent and closed it tightly. He flicked off the light and crawled under the lonely covers.

  …

  Nester’s piping voice barked from the shadows.

  “Heh! How can you sleep in at a time like this? First leg of our flight to Tahiti leaves in forty minutes.”

  Jim struggled up in his bed and frowned at his watch. It was 5:00 a.m. The room was as cold as ever. He knew that outside the church, the mercury in the old thermometer would be crouched in the stem like a frozen serpent waiting impatiently for spring. The cold glare of the distant moon would be pushing long shadows across the ice and snow on the silent lake.

  “Tahiti?” Jim mumbled. “How the hell did you arrange Tahiti?”

  “Heh! Called Lee Eady on the short wave. He was just coming back from a Christmas party. Lee called his travel agent. Got him out of bed and insisted he make all the bookings on his computer. Lee and Bobbi were in Tahiti last year. They said it was great. We leave on Boxing Day at 1:30 p.m. Direct flight from Calgary. Be on the beach in time to watch the moon come up. Airfare and hotel included. Even most of the meals. Just a few bucks for booze and the price is almost the same as our other package!”

  Nester stood there waiting for Jim’s congratulations.

  “All paid for?” Jim asked.

  “Sure. They had our credit card numbers. Tahiti! They say it’s fantastic and our rooms are right on the beach,” Nester chuckled. “Come on, let’s get the hell out of this berg!”

  Jim struggled into his parka and grabbed his luggage. Nester was already out the door. Jim paused inside the tranquil church. The small candle beneath the image of Christ was burning low, the failing wax ornament weeping wisps of dark smoke in the motionless air. Jim found another candle on the table and reverently replaced the smoldering stub. He looked up at the massive tree. The lights were gamely winking their endless merriment into the furthest reaches of the church. The sweet sound of carols was piping in over the short wave. He pulled up his hood and stepped out the door.

  Nester was tossing his expensive leather luggage on the toboggan and snapping instructions to the young man lashing it into place.

  “Come on, Jim. Come on Tahiti!” Nester chuckled.

  Jim tossed his bags on the sled and eager hands secured it with the others. He could see the old Norseman sputtering a trail of blue smoke into the motionless air. A small knot of enthusiastic well wishers was gathered around the shuddering plane. Jim looked anxiously through the crowd; certain Angie would be there. The pale moon threw a ghostly light over the group. Jim searched the milling throng, but Angie’s soft form was not among them.

  Geezer cut the engine as the sled approached. He climbed stiffly out of the cabin and wrestled the cargo door open. The windshield wiper mitts were already swiping at the watery nose.

  “You Lads got everything?” Geezer muttered as the helpers tossed the luggage into the battered craft. The villagers stood back while Geezer slammed the protesting cargo door and secured the handle with a piece of rusted wire.

  “Well,” Geezer muttered, “guess we may as well get airborne.” He began to shake hands all around and squinted back to the church. A rangy figure was hurrying across the ice.

  Father Stait loomed out of the shadows and handed Geezer his battered thermos. “Don’t thank me. I’ll just put it on your tab. Have a good flight!”

  “Hey, Father, did you put some whisky in it?” Nester demanded.

  “No, Nester, but I made it myself. Remember, my coffee is guaranteed to keep you awake!”

  “Hey!” Nester announced. “I still got a bottle left. Let me leave it with you.” Nester started to climb into the back of the craft.

  “‘Nester!” Father Stait halted him. “No! No more liquor. I’ve had my share. But why don’t you all drop in next year about this time. I’ll have a drink with you, and we can finish the discussion we started before you passed out!”

  “Hey! I never passed out!” Nester bristled. “I never passed out in my life!”

  “Come back anyway, Nester. Come back anyway.”

  Nester’s smile returned. “Hey, Geezer. We’ll be back next Christmas. Eh?”

  Geezer shrugged and struggled up the frosty ramp.

  Father Stait reached into his pocket. “Jim, a short note for you. Angie asked me to say goodbye to everyone.” He passed the note to Jim.

  Jim shook his hand and climbed into the back seat. He wrestled the seat belt on and unfolded the brief letter.

  “Dear Jim: Sorry I couldn’t be there to say goodbye. Mary finally delivered a healthy son. Guess what they are naming him. Jesus James-Nester Sunchild. Be sure and tell Nester! Thanks for the wonderful time. I really think you should call your wife and your oldest daughter. Really, I do! If it doesn’t work…Look me up in Winnipeg someday. My phone number is below. Goodbye and Merry Christmas!”

  Jim folded the note and squeezed it into his pocket beside Tania’s letter. He tried to picture Christine and Anne through the tears that filled his eyes.

  “Nester. Mary Sunchild had a son last night.”

  Nester gave Jim a blank look.

  “Nester. They named him after you!”

  Nester tried to hide his pleasure, but he was beaming. “Really!” he chuckled. “Hey, ain’t that something.”

  Geezer was rummaging thought the litter on the floor again. Jim started to refuse the coffee, but the aroma was tempting. He accepted the battered cup Geezer thrust at him.

  “Nester,” Jim shouted over the roar of the stuttering engine. “I’m not going south with you.”

  Nester frowned across the dim cabin. He didn’t seem surprised.

  “I’m sorry, Nester. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. I’ve got to make some changes in my life. The trip south is no longer in my plans.”

  “What the hell are you going to do?”

  “Nester, I’m going to call a couple of girls I used to know. They both thought a lot of me at one time. Maybe with it being Christmas, they will give me one last chance.”

  Nester sipped his coffee then turned away. “Hey, you been talking to that damned priest way too much.” Jim could see the disappointment in his friend’s face.

  “Nester. I’m giving you my ticket. Take someone else. You got a list of names a mile long in Calgary. Must be a couple of them that would jump at the chance.” He passed the packet to Nester.

  Nester brightened at the prospect. “You’re giving me your ticket?”

  “Nester, there’s my old ticket. When you exchange them, put her name on it.”

  Nester chuckled. “Hey! I bet I know someone who will go with me!”

  Jim felt a little better.

  “Geezer!” Nester shouted. “You ever been south?”

  “Hell, yeah! I went south three years ago just after Christmas. Didn’t care a damn for it. Couldn’t wait to get back up here!”

  A shadow of disappointment crossed Nester’s face. “Where did you go?” Nester was surprised that the reclusive old Scotsman had ventured so far from his familiar environment.

  “Regina!” the old pilot snorted. “Spent over a week drinking there one January. All they talked about was curling and football. Most of the women could out drink you.” He spat the words out.

  “Place was so cold everyone had their polar bears plugged in just to get them started in the morning. Soon as I was sober ‘nough to remember where I’d left the plane, I headed back north again!”

  Nester burst into laughter.

  “No. Hell! I mean really south, with sand and topless babes and all ki
nds of cheap rum served in pineapples. Grass skirts! You know what I mean.”

  “Oh, that’s too rich for my purse.”

  “I got a ticket right here with your name on it. Room and meals included. Drinks are on me. You’re coming! It’ll do you good!”

  Geezer accepted Jim’s ticket. His rheumy eyes examined the packet a long moment then he slowly shook his head. “Aw geez, Mother Mary, what the hell!” he growled. “Who’d watch your scrawny Ukrainian butt iffen I didn’t go along?” His trembling hand pounded the switch and the old engine coughed to life. It seemed eager to be on its way.

  …

  The roaring craft carved a long slow arc over the black ice of the lake, leaving a thin trail of motionless smoke in its wake. Geezer banked once and made a diving pass over the village, wobbling the unsteady wings to the small figures waving on the ice. He applied full throttle. The plane surged around and headed into the night with the cold North Star fixed over Geezer’s shoulder.

  Jim sipped his coffee and looked into the cockpit. He realized it was Christmas morning….

  Nester was shouting over the roar of the engine. He heard the words, “rum” and “grass skirts.” They would keep one and other amused till they made it south to Yellowknife. He closed his eyes and pretended to doze.

  His racing thoughts would not let him sleep, but perhaps the solitude of the flight would allow him to organize the images that were racing through his mind. He needed the time to compose his words. It would be the most important phone calls of his life and he was determined not to waste them. Maybe the bells he had heard across the ice would bring him the luck he needed.

  THE END