by DiAnn Mills
I had the children sing carols for the next half hour. They were slightly off tune but made up for it with volume. By some miracle, everyone was ready at zero hour. I stayed with my choir, ready to slip behind the curtain at the proper moment.
Mary, Maude, Billy, and the other Ruggles children sat on the end chairs, so they could march on stage for Act Two: the Ruggles Family at Home. Cast members waited behind the curtain while Pastor Jenkins, a gaunt, white-haired gentleman, welcomed the folks and opened in prayer. Then Honey told about Carol Byrd’s birth on Christmas morning and how her mother found a name by listening to the boys’ choir singing at the church next door. On cue, my choir belted out “Carol, Brothers, Carol” and the curtain opened.
Act One passed without a hitch. Dressed all in white with a white quilt and lacy pillows propped behind her, Julie charmed the audience. When Millie’s outlandish costume got a belly laugh, she blushed with pleasure. Tubby played jolly Uncle Jack to perfection.
Finally, the Ruggles children swarmed into Julie’s bedchamber. Billy hung on the bedpost and swung on the backs of the chairs until Millie gave him a boot as she passed.
When they finished the meal and the children left the table, Julie said, “Oh, wasn’t it a lovely…” Suddenly her face contorted—shock, realization, then stark fear.
She screamed and scrambled off the bed. Her foot caught in the quilt. She fell headlong into the back of a chair. The chair knocked Billy, and he landed against the Christmas tree, sending it and all the china ornaments crashing to the floor.
Julie’s gown flew up to her knees, showing a wide patch of red-striped long johns and bare feet. The children pointed and laughed. Soon most everyone in the audience was laughing, pointing, and laughing again.
In the wings, Honey burst into tears and disappeared through a side door. Still squealing, Julie tried to kick her foot loose from the quilt. Millie ran to her rescue. Afraid she’d been hurt, I rushed to help. A second later, Tubby had the presence of mind to pull the curtain.
“A spider,” Julie sobbed in Millie’s arms. “It was on my hand.” She sniffed, very unladylike. “Oh, I’ve ruined everything!”
Millie looked to me for help.
“You’re not to blame, Julie,” I said, touching her arm. “It could have happened to anyone.”
“Let’s get you home,” Millie said. “I’ll fetch your coat. You can put it over your gown and sneak out the side door, like Honey did.”
“Honey ran away?” Julie pulled back from Millie. Her face full of dread. “She’ll never forgive me. Never in a hundred years.”
The children scampered down to their parents. Tubby and Bob and the girls slumped in chairs beside the overturned table.
I peeked around the curtain. The last of the folks were heading out the back doors. On a cold, wet night like this, the best place to be was home. I wanted to be there myself. Too bad I had to drive Tubby and Lucy to the train.
We found Honey already in the car when we loaded up a few minutes later. Since Mr. Simmons had his Model T at the church to take his household home, I headed right to Waterbury with Lucy and Tubby. We drove eight miles in silence. Lucy hunkered down into a corner of the backseat. Tubby slouched in front. They didn’t offer any conversation during the hour-long wait either.
At eleven o’clock I hung my dripping coat on the Simmonses’ banister and dropped my hat on top of it. They were too wet for the closet. I hesitated, too keyed up to go straight to bed. The library fire looked inviting.
Except for the glow of orange coals, the room was dark, the furniture black lumps in the shadows. My hands stretched toward the heat when I heard a sniffle. I peered through the gloom.
Huddled in a corner of her chair sat Julie. Her tear-smudged face wrenched my heart. She tilted her head. “Who’s there?” she whispered. “Mother?”
“It’s Jim.” I knelt before her. “What’s the trouble?”
Fresh tears flowed. “Honey won’t speak to me. She’s moved in with Alice. I’ve never known her to get so mad.”
My lips tightened.
“If I weren’t blind…”
“Now hold on.” I pulled her chin up with my forefinger. “Being blind has nothing to do with it. Sighted people are afraid of bugs, too. Please don’t torment yourself.”
She touched my cheek. More than that, she touched my heart. The next moment, she was in my arms. I wanted to comfort her like I’d never wanted anything before. My lips found hers, tenderly, sweetly. I was in another world.
Chapter 10
Jim’s kiss reached down to the deep recesses of my being. I lost myself in his arms, overwhelmed with his gentleness.
Honey’s face slowly took shape and moved to the front of my mind. Trembling, I jerked away.
He immediately turned me loose. “Forgive me.” His voice was haggard. “I had no right. I don’t know what came over me.”
I wanted to tell him it was okay, not to worry, but the words wouldn’t come. I tucked my chin down.
He stood close to my knee. “I’d best go upstairs. Can I get you anything?”
An ember popped. The upholstery leather felt smooth beneath my burning cheek. I shook my head, unable to speak. I listened to his footsteps until they disappeared down the upstairs hall—savoring the bittersweet secret that no one in the world must ever know: I was desperately in love with the man my sister intended to marry.
“Wake up, Julie!” Millie said, shaking me. “It’s Christmas morning. Everyone’s waiting in the parlor. Go and splash your face while I get you something to wear.”
I staggered next door to the bathroom. The icy water made my nerves tingle. Had I imagined last night? Dreamed it? No. Something in me had changed forever.
“Is Jim downstairs?” I asked Millie as she slid a scratchy wool dress over my head.
“Everyone’s there. Honey’s in a chair, tapping her toe. Alice and Bob are sitting next to each other on the hearth, looking like kids on after-school detention. Your parents are on the sofa, and Esther is making hot cider in the kitchen.”
“What about Jim?” I said louder. Millie could be so infuriating.
“He’s leaning on the mantel shelf, staring into the fire. I don’t think he’s said two words all morning.”
With fumbling fingers, I pulled on a sweater and pushed cold feet into my shoes.
When I sat on the sofa next to Mother, she put her arm around me. “It’s snowing, Julie dear. We’ve got a white Christmas.”
Millie sat on the rug at my knee. Her hair brushed my arm whenever she moved.
Dad cleared his throat. “Let’s have a word of prayer, thanking God for His special gift that first Christmas morning.” His deep voice made the rafters ring. When he was through, he said, “Jim, since you’re standing, would you do the honors?”
“With pleasure, Mr. Simmons.”
Just hearing his voice made my heart skip. I pinched my lips together, afraid my face would betray the tempest brewing inside me. Would Jim kiss me, then give Honey an engagement ring a few hours later?
As Jim called name after name, Mother whispered what the gifts were. To Alice from Honey: a white feather boa. To Julie from Mother and Dad: a pair of skates.
To Honey from Jim: a painted wooden mouse on skis, three inches tall. “How lovely!” she exclaimed, but I sensed her disappointment. I drew in a slow breath that felt like the first one in days.
To Julie from Jim…
His fingers brushed mine as he placed the lumpy package in my hands. Mother untied the string that held the cloth around the gift. Alive with curiosity…seeing with my fingertips…I felt two tiny people on top of a flat box slightly larger than my hands. The top surface felt like glass, the sides like wood.
“Here, let me.” Mother reached for something on the side.
Tinny, plinking music made the box vibrate. The people swirled around in time with “The Skater’s Waltz.” Enchanted, I ran my hand over the sides, found the stem, and wound it again.
“I found it in a to
urist shop the day we went to Stowe,” Jim said from somewhere far away.
I looked up. “I’ll cherish it.” The couple reminded me of my first time back on skates, a crisp breeze in my face and my hands clasped by a certain wonderful gentleman.
Esther’s voice broke the spell. “Watch out, everyone! Hot cider coming through.”
The rest of the day was a series of exhilarating sensations: a roll-and-coffee breakfast, a rousing round of carols at the piano, a turkey dinner with all the trimmings.
Suddenly time flew like a December wind. On Monday, only two days more, Honey and her friends would drive away. Would I ever see Jim again? Honey’s ring hadn’t appeared. Hope kindled a tiny fire beneath my left rib.
That night Honey snuffed out the flame.
It was past nine, and exhausted, I’d just climbed into bed, when Honey marched into my room. The music box stood on my bedside table where I could reach it.
“We have to talk,” she said, standing over me. Usually when Honey started with those words she meant: I’m going to talk and you’d best listen if you know what’s good for you.
I clamped my jaw and waited.
“Why are you chasing Jim? You know he’s mine. I brought him here to meet the family because I intend to marry him. Then you get your head filled with juvenile…” She paused to take a breath, and I dove in.
“Honey, he’s not a puppet. He’s a man. All your life you’ve bossed everyone, including me. If you think you can do the same with Jim Clarke, you’re in for a surprise.”
“You know him better than I do?”
I tried to keep a lid on my temper. “You only see what you want to see. To you Jim is a rich fellow with a plush future. But that’s not what he’s really like. He’s a sensitive guy who wants to work with poor city children. He may not be a lawyer at all.”
She whispered her answer, but her words were intense. “He’ll be a lawyer all right.”
A moment later, her voice softened. “I feel sorry for you, Julie, shut up here with the social life of a caterpillar. It’s no wonder you found one of the fellows attractive. I’m just sorry it had to be Jim.”
This was really rich. “You’d rather I liked Tubby…or Bob?”
“Not seriously, silly. Just for fun.”
My temper flared. “For your information, I didn’t chase anyone.”
“That’s not the way it seemed to the rest of us. I’m sorry to tell you this, but it’s embarrassing the way you’ve been mooning over him—leaning toward him at the dinner table, hanging on his arm. I’m not the only one who noticed. Lucy mentioned it to me before she left.”
My face burned. Had I been forward with Jim? I tried to remember, to reexamine my actions. I rubbed my forehead. Everything was jumbled. I couldn’t think straight.
Honey put her arms around me. “I feel bad for you. Truly I do.” She sounded sorry. “We won’t talk about it again, okay?”
I nodded and curled down under the quilt. I heard her turn out the light and close the adjoining door. With trembling fingers, I reached out to touch my music box. My shoulders heaved, and I hid my face in the pillow.
Despite my exhaustion, I hardly slept. Humiliation seared me like a hot poker. What must Jim think of me? Twenty years old and acting like a schoolgirl with her first crush. I’d made a royal fool of myself. How could I be so stupid?
“I’m not dressing,” I told Millie the next morning.
Honey and Alice were downstairs getting into coats to go sledding on the hill behind our house. Runaway horses couldn’t drag me outdoors with them today.
“Why are you still in bed?” Millie touched my forehead. “Are you sick?”
I pushed her away. “Stop treating me like an invalid. I’m not sick. I’m tired.”
She perched on the side of my bed. “What’s gotten into you, Julie? Yesterday, you floated on a cloud. This morning you look like you’ve been up all night eating stewed persimmons.”
“I don’t want any breakfast. You can bring me a tray for lunch.”
She stood. “Suit yourself. I’m going sledding with the gang. If I stay to argue, I’ll miss half the fun.” She opened the door, said, “See you later,” and scurried away.
I pulled the quilt over my ears.
I must have slept because when Honey and Alice burst into their room chattering like two jays and laughing between every sentence, they startled me. I traced the hands on my alarm clock. Eleven-thirty.
I might as well get dressed. No sense staying in bed all day. I felt in the closet for my flannel shirtwaist and corduroy jumper.
“I’m glad to see you’re up,” Millie said, startling me. “Time to come down for lunch.”
“I told you. I’m not going down.”
She flopped into the chair. “You really are in a pet, aren’t you? Come on, tell Dr. Millie what the problem is.”
Praying for courage to do what I must, I turned around for her to fasten my buttons.
“I’ve got a little job for you, Millie.” I swallowed. “Don’t try to talk me out of it. Just do as I ask this once…please.”
“You’re serious.” She sounded worried.
I reached for the music box. This time I didn’t wind it up. “Wait until you catch Jim alone, then give this to him. Tell him I can’t accept it.”
“Why not? It’s a wonderful gift. You’ll hurt him if you give it back.”
I pushed it into her hands. “Please, Millie! Don’t argue.” Tears welled up behind my eyelids. “It’s best this way.”
She hesitated.
I waited for her to scold me. But all she said was, “I’ll bring you a lunch tray,” and then she went out.
I dug in my drawer for a handkerchief and sank into the chair. If I could hold on through today and tomorrow, Monday they’d all be gone and I could get back to normal.
Normal? Did that exist for me anymore?
Chapter 11
Mr. Clarke.” At Millie’s words, I looked up. “Julie asked me to give you this,” Millie continued, hurrying across the library rug. She thrust the music box at me like it was full of hot coals.
I stayed in my chair and stared at it. “Why?”
“She says she can’t accept it.” Millie set the wooden box on the hearth near my hand.
“Where is Julie? I want to talk to her.”
“She won’t come downstairs.” The red-haired girl stepped closer and whispered, “I don’t know what’s happened, but she’s in an awful pet. Looks to me like she cried all night. I can’t imagine what’s gotten into her.”
My first impulse was to bound up the stairs and make Julie tell me what had happened. I let out a slow breath, trying to put the pieces together, and not liking the picture no matter how I turned it.
Millie darted from the room. I hardly noticed.
I picked up the music box and turned it over in my hands, remembering Julie’s pleasure when she’d received it yesterday morning. What had changed her attitude?
I went up to my room to hide the music box before anyone asked questions I didn’t want to answer. When I burst in, Bob stood before a mirror with a hairbrush in his hand.
“What’s on for the afternoon, old man?” he asked without turning. “I’ve had all of the great outdoors I can stand for a while. Let’s play parlor games after lunch.”
I mumbled a noncommittal response and slid the box under the quilt near my pillow.
Bob picked up his sport coat and shrugged into it. “I wonder what’s cooking for lunch. I could eat a moose.”
I was hungry when I reached the dining room, but Julie’s empty chair killed my appetite. I pushed away from the table before the others finished.
“What is it, darling?” Honey turned to me, mild concern in her eyes.
“I think I’ll walk to Shegog’s. It’s nothing important.” I forced a smile. “Be back in a while.”
The moment I stepped through the door, the wind clawed at my face, pulled at my hat, and sucked away my breath. I pulled a woo
l muffler about my chin and leaned against a pillar on the porch. Going to the store was an excuse. I wanted to be alone, to sort things out.
Sunbeams glittered on the snow that covered every surface: the trees, my Oldsmobile and Mr. Simmons’s Model T, the mill across the road.
Julie couldn’t stand to be near me. Did it matter so much?
I tramped through the woods for more than an hour. Sorting through a fellow’s priorities is never easy. For me it was sheer torture. All my life I’d craved my father’s approval. I’d endured unspeakable agonies trying to please him. The trouble was, I never could. It came down to one question: What did I really want in life?
Two ways lay before me: a gorgeous wife, a topnotch job, fabulous wealth and social standing. Or a life of service, of living with the problems of others, of self-denial. The choice seemed ridiculously easy. So why was I so miserable?
I kept telling myself that Honey was perfect for me. I believed it, too.
Alice, Bob, Honey, and I played mah-jongg the rest of the afternoon. I laughed louder than anyone. Why not? I had everything going for me down to the last detail…special ordered by my father.
Sunday morning, Honey clung to my arm, smiling close to my face, tempting me. I didn’t look at Julie when she came down with Millie and took her father’s arm for the walk to church. I sat with Honey in the second pew—two rows ahead of the Simmons family—so I wouldn’t have to make a choice about where to keep my eyes. Honey, warm and possessive, was enough for any man.
After the singing, Pastor Jenkins shambled to the pulpit. He looked almost too frail to get through the message. He stood quietly for a moment and took inventory of the congregation. His black eyes rested on me, and suddenly I felt like an eight-year-old on the first day at a new school.
“Open your Bibles to Matthew 6:28,” he quavered. “‘Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin: And yet I say unto you, that even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.’ “He cleared his throat. “Today we’re going to have a little lesson on God’s economics.”