The Most Perfect Gift

by Hubert Furey

  Levi panicked. She mustn’t leave. She would be lost again, perhaps forever. What could he do? He grasped for words. “I didn’t mean to offend you. My nephews told me you were admiring the ring. We jewellers, we are businessmen, we do not wish to lose a customer.” He knew he sounded ridiculous, but he had to hold her. She couldn’t leave, not now.

  The panicked tone in Levi’s voice brought about a change in the woman’s demeanour. She no longer seemed to want to leave. She released her grip on the doorknob and slowly walked back to the showcase, drawn by the look of bewilderment and pain on the old man’s face. Her body was composed, but her voice was still beaten and dispirited.

  “Of course you wouldn’t know. How could you? I’ve been so wrapped up in myself, in my thoughts about my children. I thought, with everybody around, I wouldn’t be noticed. You know, just drift in, be one of the crowd. I could just come in and look at the ring one more time, it being Christmas. I have to pass here every day on the way to the warehouse. I’m allowed to earn so much. I don’t cheat the welfare people, not one red cent.”

  She quickly added, looking defensively from one to the other, before resuming her previous tone, “I would say to myself, ‘Just one more look, just one more glance, then I won’t go in anymore.’”

  “But if you admire it so much . . .” Levi interjected, but he knew it would be stupid to finish.

  She looked back at him, shaking her head, the bemused look on her face out of place beside the deep sadness in her eyes. “I cannot buy that ring. You know that and I know that. That ring means more than anything else to me in this world, especially at Christmas, but I couldn’t make one monthly payment on that ring in a year. I have three children, and since I lost my full-time job at the warehouse, all I have is welfare.”

  Levi felt anger rising within him. Why her? Such goodness, such nobility . . .

  She suddenly stopped, studying him intently. “I have a feeling I’ve seen you somewhere before. Have you ever had a store in Andersten?”

  “Andersten! No, no.” Levi felt himself blushing. Had she recognized him? Perhaps now was the time. Unfold everything. He felt Miriam’s gaze.

  “Funny. You look so familiar.” She returned to her recounting just as abruptly, reverting to the dreamy state she assumed whenever her gaze fell upon the ring. “My husband, Joe, was always going to give me that ring.”

  Levi seized upon the opportunity. Of course, poor working people, raising their children with little money. There was a way. She would never know why he was doing it. A huge discount. After all, it was Christmas. That was perfectly plausible. He was still the owner. Terms as long as she, or her husband, wanted. Yes, yes, it could be done. He would lose on the ring, drastically. He was prepared for that. He addressed her directly, in the way he had always addressed his customers, but his thoughts were wild, unfocused, out of control.

  “Look, I will keep this ring here. I will even put a ‘sold’ tag on it. I am giving unusual discounts this Christmas, excellent terms, up to ten, fifteen years, if you want it.”

  The nephews dropped their jaws in amazement. They had never witnessed their uncle like this. True, he had always been a generous merchant . . .

  “You and your husband . . .”

  “I don’t have a husband anymore,” she interjected quickly. The offended look had disappeared entirely from her face. “Of course, how would you know that, seeing that I’m a perfect stranger?”

  Hardly a stranger, Levi thought. He watched as she turned her head toward the window in an attempt to hide the tears. So the Irish Catholics have separation and divorce, too. He thought of Judith and Abram Mentovitch. Perhaps his Judith suffered like that, too.

  “Yes, separation and divorce are terrible things.” It was a voice ringing with compassion.

  “Oh, no, we weren’t separated or divorced. That could never happen to us. It was much worse than that. Much worse than divorce or separation. At least I could see him then, know how he was doing. My husband is dead; he was killed five years ago this Christmas.”

  The shock of the unexpected announcement rippled through the silence of the room. “Your husband killed?” How much had this woman suffered?

  She continued talking in a dull, resigned tone. “Yes. This is the last place we were together. Well, that’s not really true. We said goodbye over at the station, before he got on the train. Here we were really together. He told me he just had to come here before he left. Told the taxi to wait, mind you. He used to always say, ‘Nora, you’ve got to see this ring.’”

  She paused, smiling softly at the memory, as the ring transported her into the warmth of a past that was no more, a past she could never forget. “He was such a wonderful man. He used to worry about me. Everybody else used to call me ‘Big Nora.’ I didn’t mind. I could shovel coal with the best of them. But he wouldn’t let me lift a finger. He’d say, ‘Now, Nora, don’t be lifting that. You’ll hurt yourself. Leave the heavy stuff for me.’”

  Levi didn’t interrupt. How had he missed them five years ago? Where was he? He never missed a day in the shop. Of course: his cousin Milcah’s funeral in Connecticut. She was still speaking, still lost in her memories.

  “My dear, he could take the world on by himself. You could hear him laughing over in the dockyard. He would roar out something foolish to me when he came through the door, set the devil in the children, but he never laid a finger on them, not a finger.”

  Levi thought of Nora’s own father, but the picture of the big, cheerful man pushed the image out of his mind. The woman continued, in the same dreamy tone.

  “He didn’t have much education, you know—just grade eight or nine—but such a worker, when he could find work. It’s all education now.”

  Levi wondered how education could have improved on this man, but he didn’t interrupt.

  “He took whatever they offered him, gave us every cent. When he would hand me the cheque, he would say, ‘Just you wait, Nora Fennessey’—he always called me Nora Fennessey—‘you’ll dress just as nice as the rest of them—dresses, coats, shoes—when I get a good job. And when that big hydro job starts up, I’m buying you that ring, the one I showed you. The diamond is you, Nora, and the three sapphires are Jack and Julie and Stephanie’—that’s our three children—‘and the big ring of little diamonds, that’s me, taking care of you all.’”

  She should have been crying, but she wasn’t, wrapped as she was in the joy of memory, reliving the most beautiful moments of her life.

  “We stood right here that day, right where I’m standing now. The big hydro job had started, and he had gotten into the steelworkers union—the superintendent spoke for him. We had bought what he needed for a year in the bush, hired a taxi to bring us all to the station. But he said, ‘We still got a few minutes, Nora.’ We were like two big foolish children, holding hands, walking into the shop here. My dear, all the money he was going to make! Overtime and double-time. We had the three youngsters all through university in no time, doctors and lawyers.” She laughed as she savoured the image, staring straight ahead. “Silly, isn’t it?”

  “Dreams aren’t silly,” Levi mused.

  “‘Yes,’ he said, ‘Nora, I’m buying you that ring.’ I didn’t say a word to him. Sure, I was half-believing it myself. I could see it on my finger, showing it off to everybody. Even with the big money he was going to make, he would have to work ten years to buy that ring. Later on I would come to my senses, but at that moment, standing here, we could have bought the whole world, and every diamond and sapphire in it.”

  She stopped for what seemed an eternity, swaying gently, absorbed in the memory of a time long since gone. Then her expression changed, and she turned away from them to look through the window, but she saw nobody on the street. She was staring past the descending snowflakes, past time and space to a point somewhere in the far distance, to the tumbling casc
ades of a thunderous chasm in the north, to a construction site destined to produce untold electricity.

  When she spoke again, she became troubled, uneasy, clenching and unclenching the big handbag, struggling for the right way to describe the most horrifying moment of her life.

  “He was killed the very next week. They said he wasn’t a climber, he shouldn’t have been there. One hundred and seventy feet, straight down the turbine shaft. He never had a chance.”

  The room was silent. The two nephews were quiet, dignified in their restraint. Miriam turned toward the back showcase, but nothing needed rearranging. For a moment, Levi would have wished to be God, but not for blasphemous reasons, just to touch this woman and heal her. What was left of the erect, proud stance was gone. The powerful frame was crumbling. Levi shook his head. Brutalizing poverty, the raving abuse of a drunken father, teenage toughs; nothing could destroy this woman, until a big-hearted construction worker came into her life and took her heart.

  “That’s why the ring means so much to me. I don’t know what it is about this Christmas, but the closer Christmas got, the lonelier I got, the more I wanted something of him.” She drew her hand across her forehead. “When I look at that ring, it is like he is speaking to me again. When I see the ring, I am seeing him. When I am standing by the ring, I am back there again and he is standing there by my side, like it was, like it was supposed to be. Silly, isn’t it?” she repeated.

  “Love isn’t silly, either,” murmured Levi, much louder this time.

  For a second time she stopped abruptly; then, taking the big handbag, she turned slowly toward the door. A look of embarrassment crept over her face, and her voice became factual, sincere. “I didn’t mean to take up so much of your time. I won’t come back anymore to bother you.” She sounded apologetic, looking in the direction of the nephews. They both returned her glance, wanting to say something, but neither spoke. Neither wanted her to leave. Levi was unusually calm. He was no longer agitated, floundering, indecisive. He knew exactly and precisely what he wanted to do. All the planning, all the well-developed strategy, all the need for the right approach, had been unnecessary. That was the way of the world.

  One must sometimes follow the way of the spirit. Her hand rested on the latch of the door as she turned to say goodbye. Levi could stand it no longer. He must act now, before now became forever. He called to her quietly. “Nora.” It was so long since he pronounced her name. She turned sharply at the sound, a quizzical look in her eyes.

  “Yes . . .”

  “Nora, I want you to have the ring.” He had wanted it to sound majestic, grandiose, to convey the spirit of his feelings, but it sounded hollow, as if he were throwing it away. She reacted with a start.

  “Have the ring!” She was dumbfounded. “Oh, no, it is much too expensive. I could never afford . . .” Her features changed, and a look of suspicion clouded her face. It confused Levi and frightened him. She became defensive in tone. “Look, I didn’t get any insurance or anything like that, if that’s what you’re thinking. They said it was his own fault, that he wasn’t supposed to be up there.” Her voice hardened, and she became even more defensive. “And I’m not a con artist. That wasn’t a cock-and-bull story I dreamed up to weasel my way in . . .” The tears were now from anger and hurt. “Telling you all that—oh my God, I feel so foolish.”

  Levi was appalled. She had totally misunderstood. What had he said wrong? He had just wanted to thank her. He had insulted her. She was leaving in anger, never to be seen again. He was incapable of moving, thunderstruck. Nora was already at the door, the violence of her movements conveying the anger which was racking her body.

  “Nora, Nora, come back, my dear.” It was the warm, entreating voice of Miriam, gentle with authority, infusing the room with calm. A feeling of gratitude swelled in Levi’s breast. Miriam, blessed Miriam. Nora stopped but did not turn around, her extended arm holding the shop door fully open as the quickening wind blew big, wet snowflakes onto the little mat inside. Her head was thrown back and her body forced into erectness, the hurt and anger easily visible through the affected stance of proud defiance which she had assumed. She seemed trapped by the sound, waiting for Miriam to speak again.

  Miriam, however, did not address her. Instead, she turned to her husband. “Levi, tell her the truth.” The tone was still quiet, but direct and authoritative.

  “The truth?” Nora turned at the word, traces of suspicion still on her face. She maintained her grip on the latch of the door as she spoke, her voice still defiant. “Look, I don’t know you, and you have been very nice to me, listening to me prattle on and all. But I’ve never met you before, and you offer me that expensive ring, which you can’t possibly afford to give me, and which I could never pay you for. What’s going on? I got tricked into something like this once before. I spent two years paying it off. I mightn’t be educated, but I’m not stupid.”

  She stopped and stood, waiting. Miriam ignored the admonishing tone, standing by her husband’s side, continuing in the same quiet, soft vein. “Let him give you the ring, Nora. It is a gift from him to you.” She paused to let the effect of her words fall on Nora. “For little Simon Mentovitch.”

  “Simon Mentovitch! Little Simon Mentovitch?” Nora looked bewildered, looking from one to the other, as Miriam continued.

  “Yes, Nora, little Simon Mentovitch, our sick little grandson.

  “You are so right. You do not know us. God forgive us for being so thoughtless. But we know you very well. How hard you can hit a ball, how strong you are at arm wrestling, what a strong, caring woman you are, how much care and protection you can give to a small Jewish boy. And to have suffered so much, in spite of your goodness.”

  Nora was fidgeting, ill at ease with the complimentary nature of the conversation. The two nephews were watching respectfully.

  “For years Levi has prayed to meet you again, to say thank you before he goes to God, to show you in some way that we did know, that we did care, that we were grateful for the love you gave our grandson, for giving him the happiest years of his life, in spite of his sickness.”

  She looked toward her husband and sighed. “My Levi is a good businessman and a wonderful person, but he does not know sometimes how to say thank you. The ring means so much to you. Take it from him. It will make him so happy. It will make both of you so happy.”

  Miriam was earnest and in control, the strength of her spirit radiating through the even tones of her voice. Levi had been listening, following every detail of the conversation, even when she alluded to his clumsy gratitude. What would he have done without his dear Miriam? As his wife finished, she placed the ring in his hand and extended Levi’s hand to Nora, the sapphires and diamonds sparkling in the fluorescent light.

  “Take it for us, and for little Simon.”

  “But it is so expensive.” It was Nora’s last attempt to disengage herself. She was being drawn into the soft, alluring logic of the older woman, lost in the appeal of the dancing sapphires, as Miriam continued.

  “Yes, Nora, it is very expensive, but of so little value compared to you. You are worth infinitely more than this ring, infinitely more.”

  Nora was fitting the ring securely on her finger for the second time, her face again enraptured by its sparkling lustre. Her voice was husky with feeling, the tone one of adoration. “It is so beautiful.”

  Levi marvelled at the transformation of her appearance. The clothes and handbag were still shabby, her hair as dishevelled, but her face was beginning to shine with the happiness of memory, blending with the light that surrounded her. Her eyes were laughing, her body was tall and strong again, as he had once known it.

  “Thank you. Thank you, thank you so, so much.” She was glowing as she looked at each one in turn. The two nephews nodded back, smiling happily for her, but her brow furrowed one last time. “Are you sure? I mean . . .”

 
Miriam walked around the showcase and took her arm, leading her to the door. “We are very sure, Nora. Now, you go home. Your three little ones will be waiting for their supper. You have a nice Christmas, from all of us and from our little Simon.”

  Nora allowed herself to be led to the door, which Miriam held open for her. Before stepping into the street, she turned one last time, blinking away the tears that were plainly visible. Her voice was soft as she fought to control the conflict of emotions that swirled within her.

  “Thank you again. This afternoon—this ring—has meant so much to me. I can’t begin to tell you how it makes me feel. You have given me such a beautiful Christmas.” With a last farewell glance, she stepped into the street and was gone.

  Levi watched her as she walked past the big display window, then turned to cross the street, pausing only to glance to the right and left. He continued to watch as she stopped under a streetlight on the far side of the street, her arm slightly extended, her head bent, totally engrossed in the ring on her finger.

  A circle of dancing snowflakes around her head had caught the light, looking for all the world to Levi like a bright halo that lingered for a moment before she turned and walked away. Something about her movements gave Levi the impression she was talking to someone: perhaps little Simon, perhaps that big, wonderful construction worker she had never stopped loving. Through the broad, wet snowflakes still curling lazily down onto the window ledge he followed the proud, erect form retreating into the distance, glad of what he had done, glad that God had shown him a way.

  He felt Miriam beside him and was grateful. He was finally at peace.

  Christmas at a Checkout

  I was fourth in line at the supermarket checkout, impatiently watching another woman at the beginning of the lineup, across from the cashier. She had already held us up long enough.