Two Tickets to the Christmas Ball

by Donita K. Paul

  What would happen if someone from the outside came into the family? Did they really need one more person in the mix? Would someone from the outside alter the precious bond the family had? Was the risk worth it? He thought of Cora’s personality. Stiff, rigid, standoffish… gentle, vulnerable… nice. Would she fit in this house? Would she want to?

  Simon and Spence hoisted the Christmas tree out of the bed of the pickup truck and shouldered the prickly pine.

  “Let me get this straight,” said Pastor Spencer. “You’re taking Sandy and a woman from work to the Wizards’ Christmas Ball, but you forgot to ask the woman.”

  Simon started toward the nursing home with the base of the tree on his shoulder. Spence trailed behind, buried in the smaller branches. “Not exactly. Sandy asked her. Then I asked her.”

  “So she was asked twice, and the three of you are going together.”

  “I think so. Well, actually, I know we are, but I don’t know if she thinks of it as a date or what, since Sandy initiated the whole thing.”

  “I’m not very good at the romance advice, Simon. Why don’t you talk to my wife?”

  “Because I already know what I should do.”

  “What should you do?”

  Two church members held the glass doors open so Simon and the pastor could maneuver the tree into the lobby. Anchor Hill Retirement Center had remodeled the lobby since the year before, so the two puzzled over the best place to put the big tree. Once they determined the best spot, setting it up in its stand and spreading out the sheet underneath it occupied several minutes. Next, they anchored the tree to the ceiling with fishing line in case some daredevil senior citizen careened his wheelchair around a corner and into the base.

  On the other side of a glass wall, in a large community room, the residents listened to Christmas carols, ate cookies, and worked on the last batch of tree ornaments. Church members mingled with the residents and helped when needed.

  With the tree secured, Simon and Spence began the joyful task of untangling the strings of lights. Sandy brought them two glasses of punch and a paper plate of cookies.

  “Having fun, kiddo?” asked Pastor Spencer.

  “Yes sir. But I can’t stay to talk. I’m in charge of Mr. Kinnaught.”

  “Isn’t he the oldest resident?”

  “Yes sir, and he keeps snitching cookies. He’s only allowed three because of his diabetes. I’m supposed to keep him eating from the veggie tray instead of the sweets table.”

  Simon gave her a hug and kissed the top of her head. “Thanks for the cookies, Candy-Sandy. You’d better go back to your charge. I see him wheeling toward the forbidden fruit.”

  Sandy whirled and scurried back into the fellowship hall.

  Simon and Spence took handfuls of tangled light strings and sat on the edge of the brick planter. While their fingers worked the knots out of the wires, Spence returned to his earlier question.

  “What are you going to do about the ball and your uninvited guest?”

  “Make sure she knows she’s invited by me, that I want her to come.”

  “And you’re going to do that by …?”

  “Formally asking her to go to the ball with us.” Simon held an untangled section in front of him. He saw the loop he needed to unwind next and tackled it.

  Spence plugged a string of lights into the socket. It lit, so he unplugged it and began the battle against twists and snags in the line. “And you’re putting this off because …?”

  “She’s gorgeous, and I’m a geek.”

  “I thought, in the story of beauty and the beast, the beast came off pretty well.”

  “Fairy tale.” Simon laid his untangled string on a chair and selected his next challenge.

  “Seems to me a date to go to a wizards’ ball qualifies for some fairy-tale advantages.”

  “You mean like pixie dust?”

  Spence shook his head. “I think pixie dust makes you fly. Not recommended on a first date.”

  “Remember, not everyone is clear about this being a date.”

  “Yes, but you are going to take care of this minor problem.”

  Simon let his handful of tangled lights rest in his lap as he stared at the bare evergreen tree and considered his pastor’s statement. He was going to have to make a decision. Did he want to go forward developing a relationship with Cora Crowder?

  Before he actually made his mouth say the words, Spence interrupted him. “The Midtown Bible Church bus has arrived. Now we can have our choir presentation.”

  Through the door, Simon watched the people pour out of the bus from the other church.

  “Spence.” He hissed under his breath.

  “What?”

  “That’s her.”

  “Cora?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Which one?”

  “Black coat, red hat, and mittens.”

  “Whoa, boy. No wonder you’re hooked.”

  “I’m not.” Simon stood as she turned toward the building and looked through the glass wall. Their eyes met. “But I wanna be.”

  Cora smiled. The man who’d done such a great job of avoiding her all week at work stood in the lobby of the nursing home, with a tangle of lights in his hand and looking very much like the proverbial deer in the headlights. She hoisted the paper bag full of wrapped presents and started for the entry. Mr. Silent Gallant dropped his bundle and rushed to open the door.

  She looked up at him as she passed. “Hi, Mr. Derrick. Do you have a relative here, or are you with the other church?”

  “The other church. Although Granddad has friends here. My whole family is in the fellowship hall.”

  She had to keep moving, since more of the crew of workers were coming through behind her. “See you later.”

  He nodded. Still the strong, silent type.

  Cora made a beeline to the gifts table and began unloading her sack. The man who’d been working with Simon came to introduce himself.

  “I’m Pastor Spencer of the Northway Bible Church. I’m called Spence, and I’ve been a friend of Simon’s for about ten years.”

  Cora stuck out her hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

  “I understand you’re going to the Wizards’ Christmas Ball.”

  Cora withdrew her hand and rearranged a pile of presents on the table. “Maybe.”

  “You know, it’s been years since I’ve heard that ball mentioned. Apparently they have it every year, but it must be the best-kept secret in town.”

  “Do you suppose people get upset when the words ‘Christmas’ and ‘wizards’ are linked together?”

  Spence put his hands in his pockets. “Could be. But the funny thing is that the only time I heard the ball mentioned was by a missionary couple who met right before the ball and ended up going to it together. Ever since Simon said he had a ticket, I’ve been trying to squeeze the rest of that memory out of the recesses of my mind.”

  “Any success? I’d like to know more about the ball’s history.”

  “Not much, but I seem to recall the Dooghans felt God used the ball to cement their relationship and put together a man and woman to make a married team sold on doing God’s business.”

  Cora shook her head. “That’s crazy, isn’t it? Usually we associate wizards with God’s mandate not to have anything to do with witches and necromancers.”

  “Of course I’m not in favor of witches and goblins and dealing with the dead. Actually, the Anglo-Saxon term ‘wizard’ simply refers to older, wise people, as in ‘wizened.’ ”

  “So wizards are not closely associated with witches.”

  “Nope. Not inherently. But just like any other area of life, you have good and evil. One of my favorite sermons is about the evil plumber.”

  “What?”

  “I make the point that a person’s occupation doesn’t determine their spiritual state. It is the condition of the heart that makes the difference. The plumber could be a nice guy or real scum. Now, of course, there are some occupations that shout
the state of a person’s heart.”

  “Like witches?” Cora asked.

  “And assassins.”

  “And terrorists.”

  “Exactly. So wizards connected with the celebration of Christmas isn’t necessarily impossible.” He raised his eyebrows. “Well, I’ll be interested to see what you and Simon have to report after the ball is over.” The pastor sang the last few words.

  “Spence,” said Simon, appearing at Cora’s elbow. “There’s no call to torture members of the other church. We’re supposed to be helping each other, not demoralizing the workers.”

  Cora put a hand on the pastor’s arm. “Your singing is not that bad.”

  “You’re too kind. It’s bad enough to get me banned from the choir loft and told to mouth the words unless I turn off my lapel mike.”

  His face was so dour, Cora giggled.

  “Your ploy for sympathy has failed, Spence.” Simon put his arm around Cora’s shoulders and pulled her away from his friend. “Get back to work.”

  The pastor turned back to the tree.

  Too aware of the warmth in her cheeks, Cora moved away from Simon. “Who condemned you two to the light brigade?”

  “I’m not sure. It happens every year. Somehow we also got roped into going to the lot, selecting and delivering the tree, then setting it up so that it’s unlikely to fall over and bean some elderly passerby.” He looked in her eyes. “Would you like to help?”

  “Bean an elderly passerby? I’m not sure I’m into that sport.”

  He grinned and nodded toward Spence and the mountain of wires. “Untangle lights.”

  “Sure.”

  “Let me take your coat.”

  Cora pulled her knitted beanie off her head, wondering what havoc it had done to her hair. As she turned to allow Simon to help her off with her coat, she stuffed the hat in her pocket, along with the gloves.

  She joined the team of Spencer and Derrick’s Decorating Dynamos, helping to string lights and garland and climbing the ladder to hang ornaments on the higher branches. They sang Christmas carols, the youth performed a play, and then the smallest children passed out gifts to the residents of the hall. Some of the older folks retired soon after. But as the church teams cleaned up, several of the Anchor Hill staff and residents helped gather trash and tidy up.

  Sandy came, wheeling her charge, Mr. Kinnaught, toward Simon and Cora as they wiped down tabletops.

  “Hi, Cora! Hi, Simon!” She bubbled with enthusiasm. “Mr. Kinnaught, look who’s here. Isn’t she pretty? She’s my friend.”

  Mr. Kinnaught looked over his shoulder. “I take it you’re talking about the young lady and not your brother.”

  Sandy laughed, parked her patient at a table, and promptly pulled a water bottle out of the bag on the back of the wheelchair. She put it in front of Mr. Kinnaught.

  He shook his head and took a swallow. “She’s going to be the death of my kidneys. Insists I drink and drink and drink. I’m going to float into the weekend.”

  Sandy giggled. “He’s supposed to drink a lot. But then he drinks too much. I’m supposed to keep count.”

  Mr. Kinnaught rubbed the back of his sleeve across his mouth. “Girl tells me she’s getting a kitten for Christmas but only after Christmas, when the cat’s old enough.”

  Sandy nodded. “We’ve been talking about names. I’ve had to say no to all Mr. Kinnaught’s ideas.”

  Cora raised her eyebrows and looked at Simon. Simon leveled a look at the old man. “I hope your suggestions were befitting the ears of a young lady.”

  “You’d accuse me of saying inappropriate things to your sister?”

  “I’d accuse you of being less than discreet when you get on a roll.”

  Mr. Kinnaught gazed at Cora. “He’s my friend’s grandson and thinks he can rein in my wit.”

  “Don’t worry,” said Sandy. “The worst one he came up with was Poop de Popper.”

  The old man growled. “It was Popper de Poop, Sandy. Get it right. Nothing wrong with calling a cat Popper.”

  Cora laughed at Simon’s fake scowl.

  Mr. Kinnaught tapped his fist on the table. “Girl also says you’re going to that wizard ball. I went to it once, a long, long time ago.”

  “We don’t know much about the ball.” Cora pulled out a seat across from the old man and sat down. “Tell us about it.”

  Sandy sat down too and put her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands, ready to hear the story.

  Mr. Kinnaught’s expression softened, and his eyes seemed to see something far, far away.

  “I met my Lizzy on the trolley. She had an armful of packages and the sweetest face of any angel you ever did see. I helped her carry her packages up five flights of stairs to a wee apartment, and she wouldn’t let me come in.” He grinned. “I stood in the door and handed her the bundles one by one. She’d go put each one down and come back for the next. I watched her walk. She had a sweet gait.” He winked at Simon. “A wiggle where it ought to be.”

  Simon cleared his throat.

  Mr. Kinnaught clucked his tongue. “Next day I won two tickets to this ball. They came in an envelope in the mail, and I couldn’t even remember entering a contest. I figured my sister must have done it. It would be like her to stand next to one of those glass bowls and put the names of everyone she could think of on slips of paper and stick them in. She didn’t remember any ball contest, though.”

  “So you took Lizzy?” asked Sandy.

  “Yep, I took Lizzy. First, I courted her a bit. An ice cream soda, a walk in the snow, a picture show, and I brought her family a bakery cake on a Sunday afternoon.”

  Sandy squirmed in her seat. “Her family lived in the tiny apartment?”

  “Nah. Her old man was a country preacher. We went out to the church, and I stayed for dinner the first week. The second week, I went out later in the day and drove Lizzy back to town.”

  Sandy laced her fingers together. “What about the ball, Mr. Kinnaught?”

  “We got gussied up in clothes we rented from a costume shop, and we danced nearly every dance. Yes sir, that was a mighty fine shindig. And Lizzy and me, we got married in the spring.”

  He smiled. The memories seemed to make him happy, so Cora wanted to keep him talking.

  “What did you do, Mr. Kinnaught?” asked Cora. “Your lifetime work?”

  “Worked at a school. A Christian school. For fifty-two years.”

  Simon added, “The Brigadier Christian School of Cincinnati.”

  “Oh my,” said Cora, “that’s a very prestigious school. So many Bible scholars started there.”

  “Don’t I know it.” Mr. Kinnaught cackled. “My Lizzy mothered almost three thousand scamps and three of our own.”

  Cora leaned forward. “What did you do, Mr. Kinnaught?”

  He winked. “I kept the halls and the dormitories clean. No Popper de Poops allowed.”

  While the old man laughed, Simon whispered in her ear. “He was the chaplain and then the principal.”

  Without warning, half the lights went out.

  “Curfew,” wheezed Mr. Kinnaught. “Sandy girl, walk me to my room.”

  “Yes sir.” She stood, picked up the water bottle, then came around to the back of his chair. “Is the brake off?”

  “How should I know? I’m not the driver.”

  Sandy checked the brake and headed out the door.

  “Good night now,” Mr. Kinnaught called.

  “Good night,” Cora and Simon echoed.

  Simon made some halfhearted swipes at the already clean table with his rag. “Sounds like the ball has quite a reputation.”

  Cora stood and pushed in her chair. “It does.”

  “I have your ticket, Cora, but I’m not sure you’re going. I don’t want you to feel like we’re forcing you to go. Sandy really wants you to go. But that’s not… well …”

  She looked away. What was she supposed to say?

  Simon came around the table and stood right wher
e she was looking. He took her hands and gently pulled her around to face him. She couldn’t avoid his gaze without rudely turning away again.

  “Cora.”

  Oh my, his eyes sparkled. She liked his eyes.

  “I would very much like it if you accepted my invitation to come to the ball with me.”

  This time she knew what she was supposed to say. She grinned. “I’d love to.”

  9

  Sandy sat on Cora’s living room floor and watched the kittens in a box. They did a sort of elbow crawl around their nest, mewling for milk. Their movements reminded Cora of movies where the marines bellied under the sniper fire to gain their objective. The kittens were just as determined to get to their mother.

  Skippy now tolerated people admiring her litter, and the mother cat seemed especially fond of Sandy. Cora sat on the sofa, her legs curled up, her cold feet tucked under a throw pillow. Outside, on this beautiful Saturday morning, sun sparkled off pristine snow-banks and made the tree branches glitter. Simon had deposited Sandy with Cora for an hour and promised to bring pizza for lunch when he returned.

  “But you don’t have a dress,” Sandy complained, with her eyes on the babies trying to stand on wobbly legs. “We should get Simon to take us to Sage Street.”

  “I can go to the costume shop by myself.”

  “He won’t mind. When he picks me up, we can ask.”

  “We don’t want to force your brother to do things. He may have other plans for this afternoon.”

  Sandy looked up at Cora, her beautiful eyes magnified just a bit by her thick glasses. “I wanted to come see the kittens, and Simon said he had errands. But he changed things so we could come over here. I think he likes you.” She tilted her head to one side. “Do you like Simon?”

  “Yes,” Cora said, decisively. “I like Simon. And I like you.”

  “Aunt Mae says it would be good for Simon to have a woman.”

  Sandy cooed at the kittens, unaware that she’d set off clamoring alarms in Cora’s calm morning. Cora tried to formulate a question to get a bit more information about the conversation Sandy must be remembering.

  The doorbell rang. Even if she could think of a way to cross-examine Sandy without sounding like she was digging for information, her time with Simon’s little sister had ended. Life was complicated.