The Treasure of Christmas

by Melody Carlson

  Christine knew that Lenore had suffered dearly for the baby she carried as well. To be only eighteen and to stand against her parents, fighting to protect her baby’s life – Christine’s life. She shuddered. Not so different from Mary in some ways.

  Christine pulled on her gloves and began walking toward her dorm. But as she walked she considered her birth mother’s life and how it was similar to Mary’s. Surely, God’s hand had been on Lenore during those hard times. How else would she have been befriended by Christine’s loving parents? Oh, Christine knew that God hadn’t willed for Lenore to be raped. No, that was just one of those unfortunate circumstances where sin got in the way. But, ultimately, according to Christine’s father, Lenore had been happy to give birth, and she’d been pleased and proud of her baby daughter. And although it wasn’t easy to give her up, Lenore had entrusted Christine to this kind and generous couple. And Christine’s parents had been overjoyed at Lenore’s incredible gift of love.

  Christine stopped on a corner and looked up at the dark sky. “Thank you, God,” she whispered, finally believing that perhaps her life wasn’t a mistake after all, that perhaps God was still in control, that he still loved her and wanted the best for her.

  She continued to walk, still thinking about young Lenore and her brave decision to keep her baby despite the circumstances. Christine wasn’t sure she would be as brave under similar conditions. Suddenly she was flooded with gratitude and respect for her birth mother. Suddenly she wished there was a way she could tell her. She stopped again. “Please, God,” she whispered to the night. “Please, tell my mother Lenore I want to say thank you to her too.” Christine realized it was probably a foolish prayer, but she meant it with her whole heart. She stood there for a long moment, just silently staring into the almost-black sky, when suddenly she noticed a star breaking through the clouds, as if it was peering down at her, as if it was winking. Oh, she knew it was silly and probably her imagination, but it seemed like a sign. As if Lenore was trying to reassure her that all was well in heaven. “Thank you,” Christine breathed.

  And then she saw another star, just as bright as the first, popping out right next to the other one. The only two stars she could see in the entire night sky. Suddenly Christine laughed as she imagined her two mothers holding hands in heaven. “And tell my mother Marie I said thank you too,” she whispered. She stood there just staring at the pair of twinkling stars, and then suddenly she saw a third star, directly across from the other two, making a perfect triangle. “And, while you’re at it, please tell Jesus’s mother Mary I said thank you too.”

  Then, with a lighter heart than she’d had in weeks, Christine walked back to the dorm. She knew that not everything was resolved, and she knew she still had to figure out what her role would be with the Daniels family. But she also knew that things had changed between her and Lenore. She knew that she’d be forever grateful for her birth mother, forever thankful that she’d saved Christine’s life. And she owed it to Lenore to do whatever she could for her surviving family.

  Christine had barely closed the door to her room before she saw the message light flashing on her answering machine. Hoping it was her dad, she turned it on. “You have seven messages,” the electronic voice said. Surprised at the number, she played them all to discover that none were from her dad. But she was relieved, since the only reason she’d hear from him right now would probably be due to an emergency. Besides, three of the messages were from her grandmother, all urging her to come over to the house, to bring her things, and to stay until New Year’s. And one message was from Aunt Hattie, saying how much she missed her little niece and to please come back by the house before she had to return home. And two were from Jimmy, saying that he was so happy to learn that she was his half sister and would she please give them a call as soon as she got in. And one was actually from Felicity, an apology of sorts, saying that she hoped Christine hadn’t misunderstood her, but that that sometimes happened, and how much the children would love to see her for Christmas.

  “Well.” Christine picked up the phone and quickly dialed. She waited through several rings until she heard Jimmy’s voice over what sounded like a houseful of others.

  “Christine!” he boomed. “Merry Christmas! Are you coming over?”

  “I could,” she began. “If it’s not too late.”

  “Never too late for you. Are you at your dorm right now? How about I pop over and pick you up? I don’t like the idea of my little sister walking by herself at night.”

  So it was settled. Christine hurried to change her clothes. No sense showing up in her soiled kitchen clothes that smelled like green beans and turkey gravy. Then she grabbed the photo album she’d assembled for Grandmother. She wished she’d taken time to do something for the others. Oh well, maybe next year.

  Jimmy cheerfully filled her in on all the happenings of the day and the party as they drove. “A lot of Felicity’s family and friends are there. And as you can imagine, Mom’s been lying low for most of the evening. I think she’s been worried about you.” He parked the car in the spot still left in the driveway. But the side streets were filled with cars.

  “I’m sorry,” Christine said. “I’ve been helping at my church, but I should’ve called.”

  “Hey, I don’t blame you,” he said as they reached the front door. Then suddenly he hugged her. “And just so you know, I’m really glad that you’re my sister, Christine. Welcome to the family. Really.” Then they walked inside, and he took her coat and nudged her down the hallway. “Your grandmother is in the den,” he whispered.

  Before anyone noticed her arrival, Christine slipped off to find her. She tapped lightly on the den door, but due to the noise from the party – a boisterous group was attempting to sing “The Twelve Days of Christmas” around the piano – she decided to simply let herself in. And there, sitting behind the big mahogany desk, was her grandmother, head bent down as she held a match in a somewhat shaky hand to light a rather bent cigarette.

  “Grandmother?”

  She looked up at Christine, her face an odd mixture of simultaneous embarrassment and pleasure. “Oh! You’re here,” she sputtered through the smoke.

  “Yeah.” Christine smiled. “Merry Christmas, Grandmother.”

  She sheepishly held out the cigarette. “I thought I needed this, but . . .”

  “Don’t let me stop you,” Christine said as she sat down in the chair across from the desk, placing the photo album in her lap.

  “Do you think smoking is a sin?” her grandmother asked, still holding the cigarette at a distance as if she wasn’t quite sure what to do with it.

  “I think God’s the only one who can determine that,” Christine said with a smile.

  “Really?” Esther looked at her cigarette with curiosity, then took a tentative puff followed by a short fit of coughing. “Hand me that ashtray, will you?”

  Christine reached for the brass dish on the coffee table and set it on the desk, watching as her grandmother snuffed the cigarette out and sighed.

  “It was just for old times’ sake,” Grandmother said, still sputtering. “But I guess my lungs weren’t ready for it.”

  “I have something for you,” Christine said. “For old times’ sake.”

  “Really?” Grandmother leaned forward with interest, and Christine slid the photo album across the smooth surface of the desk.

  “Sorry, I didn’t have time to wrap it.”

  Esther slowly opened the album, then just stared at the array of photos before her. It was only the first page, and only shots of Christine as a newborn, a rather red and wrinkly looking baby. After what seemed several minutes her grandmother turned to the next page, staring again with equal fascination.

  Christine leaned over the desk to see the album more clearly. She wondered if there was something more fascinating than she’d realized. “That was my first birthday,” Christine said, pointing to the redheaded infant dressed like an elf in green velvet.

  Esther nodded w
ithout speaking, and Christine wondered if perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea after all. But she sat, waiting patiently while her grandmother slowly worked her way through the book. The last pictures had been taken at Christine’s high school graduation, and then there was one of her and her father shortly before he left for Brazil.

  “Thank you,” Esther said in a low voice.

  “I hope it’s okay.”

  Her grandmother looked at her. “Are you kidding? Okay? Why, it’s one of the most beautiful gifts I’ve ever received. Thank you.” She flipped back through it again, staring in wonder at the photos, then suddenly looked up. “So you must have a December birthday too.”

  Christine nodded.

  “What day is it?”

  Christine never liked to answer this question, but she finally said, “The twenty-fifth.”

  “Christmas day?”

  She nodded. “Yeah. My parents called me their Christmas present.”

  Her grandmother smiled. “I can understand that.” She looked back down at the book. “Now, can you tell me more about what’s going on in these pictures?” she asked. “Like where were you when this was taken?”

  So for the next hour or so, Christine attempted to commentate on the pictorial tour of her life.

  “Hello in there,” Jimmy called as he poked his head in the door. “Everything okay?”

  “Yes, of course,” Esther said. “How’s the party going?”

  “Nearly everyone has gone home now, except for immediate family.”

  “Is it that late?” Esther looked at her watch. “Good heavens, it’s half past eleven.”

  “You two care to join us for a cup of peppermint cocoa?”

  “Yes,” Esther said. “In fact, I have a little announcement to make.”

  22

  After everyone had gathered comfortably in the living room, where a cheerful fire was still snapping in the fireplace, Jimmy brought out a tray of cocoa cups, each one topped with a dollop of whipping cream and garnished with a candy cane.

  “Remember who started this tradition?” Jimmy asked as he handed Grandmother a steaming cup.

  “Haven’t we always done this?” Felicity said as she picked up a cup for herself.

  “Well, I never did it myself,” Jimmy said as he handed Christine a cup. “Not until Dad married Mom, that is.” He handed Aunt Hattie a cup. “But I believe it was Lenore’s tradition to have cocoa before bed on Christmas Eve.”

  “To give you sweet dreams,” Grandmother said in a voice full of reflection.

  Jimmy sat down next to his wife. “Works for me.”

  “Too late for them,” Aunt Hattie said as she nodded to Jamie and Casey, who were curled up in sleeping bags beneath the Christmas tree.

  “It was Jamie’s idea to bring the sleeping bags,” Jimmy said. “But don’t worry, Mom, they don’t need to spend the night here.”

  She waved her hand. “Oh, that’s all right, they’re welcome to stay if they like.”

  Jimmy blinked, then Felicity spoke quickly. “No, we have to go over to my mom’s in the morning. She’s making waffles.”

  “Good for you,” Grandmother said. “Good for Janet.” She looked around the room, pausing to look at each face before she continued to speak. “As I told you, I have a little announcement to make tonight. But I didn’t want to make it until everyone was here.” She looked directly at Christine. “My family isn’t very big, but you’re all important to me. As you know, I’ve been in contact with my lawyer regarding my will. He made a draft today, and I will sign it after the holidays.” She chuckled. “And be assured, if I should kick the bucket between now and then, the changes I made today will be in effect.”

  Christine glanced over at Jimmy and Felicity. She could tell by Felicity’s creased brow that she was worried. And Christine knew that all this talk about changing the will had been upsetting to her. Suddenly Christine wished that she could just disappear. She had no idea what her grandmother was up to, but she was worried that her own presence had been the catalyst behind it.

  “Rather than wait for my timely or untimely demise, I’ve decided to make my wishes known while I’m still around to make sure no bickering occurs after I’m gone.” She turned and looked directly at Felicity. “Because despite what I’ve said about money all these years, I know as well as anyone that it will never buy you happiness. Just the same, I know that’s a whole lot easier to say when money’s not an issue.” She cleared her throat, then glanced over at Aunt Hattie. “Sorry you have to hear all this again, Hattie.”

  “That’s perfectly all right, dear. You go right ahead.”

  “So what I have decided to do is to disburse some of your inheritance now,” Grandmother said. “Not all of it, mind you. Some things are better left until the end. But I have decided that it makes no sense for an old woman like me to sit on a pile of money while some folks are struggling to make ends meet.”

  “Oh, Mom,” Jimmy began. “You don’t need to – ”

  “You just hush now, Jimmy. You’re a good boy, and I love you like my own, but when it comes to money sense you don’t always get it.” She shook her finger at him, then smiled. “Anyway, as I was saying . . . I want everything to be perfectly clear. I know how easy it is to get confused when families and wealth merge in marriages. I want all my cards laid out on the table. You see, when Christine’s mother left home more than twenty years ago, she had a good-size savings account that her father had started for her for college when she was just an infant. This was an account that I continued to add to over the years, hoping that someday she would come home and I would – ” She choked slightly, and Aunt Hattie patted her hand.

  “Anyway, at first I just wanted to change my will to reflect that this savings is to go to Christine. Because that seems only fair. But that’s when I decided that it’s usually the very times when kids need money that they don’t have it. And that’s when I decided to do a little disbursing this Christmas.” She held out two envelopes. One she pointed in Christine’s direction, the other in Jimmy’s. “Well, come on, here you go. Merry Christmas.”

  Jimmy got up and got his envelope, but Christine felt like she couldn’t move. Then Jimmy got hers and handed it to her. “Come on, Christine, don’t be upsetting your grandma on Christmas Eve.”

  “That’s right,” said Grandmother. “And like I said, that’s your inheritance for now. I plan to keep my house and enough to live comfortably on for . . . well, at least until I see those grandchildren grow up.” She looked at Christine. “And perhaps see some great-grandchildren from you. In due time, that is. No hurry.”

  Christine felt her cheeks blushing. Then without looking inside the envelope, she got up and went over to hug her grandmother. “Thanks,” she whispered.

  “Thank you,” Grandmother said.

  When Christine stepped back she could see her grandmother’s blue eyes glistening with tears, but for a change they seemed like tears of joy.

  Just then the bell on the mantle clock began to ring.

  “Look, everyone, it’s midnight now,” Jimmy said. “Merry Christmas, everyone!”

  “Happy birthday, Christine,” Grandmother said.

  “No way,” said Jimmy. “You’re a Christmas baby?”

  She nodded with embarrassment.

  “Happy birthday, dear,” Aunt Hattie said with a smile.

  “Happy birthday,” Felicity said. “Just wait’ll Jamie hears about this. He thought it was bad being born the week before Christmas.”

  Christine nodded. “Yeah, it always made having parties a little awkward. But it was kind of fun too.”

  “Her parents called her their Christmas present,” Grandmother said with a bright smile.

  “That makes me think of something,” Aunt Hattie said as she held up her cocoa cup. “I’d like to propose a Christmas toast.”

  Everyone else held up their cups and waited.

  “Here’s to Christmas Past,” began Aunt Hattie. “The gift we keep with us forev
er. And here’s to Christmas Future.” She glanced at the children peacefully snoozing beneath the Christmas tree. “The gift that is yet to come. And here’s to Christmas Present.” Aunt Hattie nodded to Christine and smiled. “The gift we open today!”

  ANGELS

  In the

  SNOW

  1

  The isolation felt complete now. Snowflakes tumbled nonstop from a pewter sky, silently encompassing her like a living, moving fortress. Claire experienced a strange sense of comfort in being cut off from the rest of the world with such cold totality. She glanced over at her cell phone still securely plugged into the electrical outlet to recharge its battery, her only link to civilization if she were to be snowed in.

  “It could happen,” Jeannie, her art rep, had warned with her usual sage type of wisdom. “You’ve got to be ready for anything up there in the mountains. We always keep the cabin stocked with nonperishables, candles, matches, and whatever you might need until you can be dug out, or the snow melts, whichever comes first. And either one might not be for weeks. So don’t let that November sunshine fool you, honey; you could get a blizzard at the drop of a hat.”

  Claire dropped her black felt walking hat onto the old maple table by the window and sighed deeply. Hopefully this change in weather wouldn’t put a damper on her daily walks. Her hike through the woods seemed the only part of her day that she actually looked forward to, and she wasn’t about to give it up to bad weather.

  She looked again at her cell phone, this time even picking it up and fingering the small buttons. It wasn’t too late to change her mind about all this. Maybe it was too extreme, or just plumb crazy, as her father had said from his home down in sunny Palm Springs. She quickly dialed Jeannie’s number then waited impatiently for the assistant to put her on the line.

  “Oh, Jeannie, I’m glad I caught you,” she said finally, trying to disguise the tight feeling of unease that had crept inside her chest.