Sometimes we had pheasant for Thanksgiving dinner, but Grancie always had a turkey in the freezer just in case.
While the Russell men were off on their annual expedition, the Russell women always went to Elkins to start the Christmas shopping. When Mom mentioned shopping at the table, Dad said, “I have a list for you. I hope you can help me out. I hate to ask since I know how much you hate to shop.”
She smiled at Dad. “Oh, it will be such a burden, but I’ll see what I can do.” Mom had been born to shop. She always decorated the Christmas tree the Saturday after Thanksgiving, and she was not about to have the tree up with no presents underneath.
My grandparents didn’t stay long after dinner. Grancie had calls to make about some project. I walked with them to the front door. When G-Pa opened it, a cold gust of wind blew inside. He pointed and said, “Wow, would you look at that beaver moon?”
I squeezed by him onto the porch to see. That moon could have been one of Grancie’s white china plates hanging up in the sky. “Beaver moon. That’s weird. Why do you call it that?”
G-Pa tugged on my curls. “Whoa, wait a minute! Something my talking-calculator and walking-dictionary of a granddaughter doesn’t know?”
“That’s right, but I’d like to know.” I stood shivering on the porch.
“I’ll mark this day on my calendar: the day I got to teach Julia something she didn’t already know. Well, the Indians called the full moon in November the beaver moon because that was usually the last moon before the real freezing weather set in. It was when the beavers would be getting ready for the winter and a good time for the Indians to trap them before it got too cold and the water froze. Those Indians were hoping to get enough beaver skins to keep themselves warm until spring.”
“That makes sense. So now I know about the beaver moon.”
“Yes, you do, and don’t forget it.” G-Pa hugged me goodnight, and Grancie kissed my cheek and said, “Run back inside and get warm, sweetie. Nothing will warm you like seasoned fir in the fireplace.”
I did exactly that, and when I was warm, I had a glass of milk and went to my room to read for a while. Mom came up to say goodnight, and then the lights went out in the Russell house. The rain was gone, the sky was clear again, and that November beaver moon shone through my window, casting shadows through the bare limbs of the apple trees.
I remembered the conversation between Dad and Mrs. Schumacher that afternoon. She had given Dad a list. I didn’t get it all, but I realized it was probably a list of what H wanted Dad to do for some families at Christmas. I wondered if that was the shopping Dad needed Mom to do.
I lay there thinking about giving H the Christmas lap quilt I was making. Maybe he won’t like it because he only likes plaid. It wasn’t much to give somebody who did so much to help other people. But what else was there I could do? I couldn’t tell anybody about all the good things he’d done, and I couldn’t buy him some expensive present. He wouldn’t want that even if I could.
Grancie had always said life was short, and Mr. Lafferty never wasted time thinking about what he couldn’t do. He just did all the things he could do. I didn’t like wasting time either, so I’d better be figuring out what I could do instead of making a list of things I couldn’t do. Christmas was coming. I had to do something special, and it couldn’t be just a lap quilt made of red and green granny squares. Maybe if I went to sleep thinking about it, I’d have an answer tomorrow.
Friday came fast that week, and it was a cold morning. Mom served a big breakfast before Dad and Jackson packed up and left. I begged Mom to let me stay home since they’d allowed Jackson to miss a day of school to go hunting. She said no and took an unhappy me to school anyway.
I didn’t know what grade I’d be in before we didn’t study about the Pilgrims at Thanksgiving. I’d been doing that since kindergarten. At least we didn’t have to make those cone-shaped hats out of construction paper and tape white buckles on our shoes.
We were fifth graders, and first thing that morning, Mrs. Grayson read to us about the Indians and the Pilgrims. I was tired of it and interrupted and told the class about the beaver moon. That was fact and a lot more interesting than one more made-up, hunky-dory story about the first Thanksgiving. Mrs. Grayson didn’t seem very interested in knowing about trapping beavers.
I wanted to tell her that her story about the Pilgrims didn’t tell the half of it and that the first Thanksgiving didn’t look like the cartoon pictures in our textbook. Sure, the Pilgrims invited the Indians to celebrate their first harvest. But they probably ate fowl, which could have been sparrows instead of turkeys. And the Indians taught them to eat seafood, so lobster or oysters could have been on the table. And corn and green-bean casserole? No way. They probably ground what corn they had and made porridge with a little onion and salt. Teachers left out all the hard parts about the suffering and sickness and starvation. I guessed they thought children shouldn’t know those things. But I’d read real stories about those times, and it was no fairy-tale feast with a big fat turkey on the table. So I zipped it shut. I wasn’t about to spoil her story.
Mrs. Grayson kept us in for the morning break because of the cold and gave us twenty minutes of free time. Piper and I sat next to the window, and I told her about my visit to Emerald Crest and carving the bird feather and that I was crocheting a lap quilt for Mr. Lafferty.
She reported how one of the older girls in her dance troupe had hurt her ankle and she was having to learn her part because the girl wouldn’t be ready for the Christmas theater performance. Then she said she’d heard Angus and Gary talking about the windows getting broken at the green haunted house.
“Did you tell them what I told you about the broken window?”
“No, I didn’t tell anybody about that. You told me not to, and besides, you said it was just the wind. And for sure you know I don’t talk to Angus. I just heard them talking during art class, and I didn’t get much.”
“Why didn’t you tell me, Piper? I needed to know about that.”
“We just had art two hours ago. This is our first break since then. I’m telling you now, Julia. It was nothing.” Piper stood up and put her hand on the window. “It’s really cold out there.”
I moved beside her. “It can’t be nothing, Piper. That’s like a secret, a big secret. It’s Mr. Lafferty’s business. So how does Angus know?” I scanned the room. Angus and Gary were over by the terrarium looking at the toad.
“I don’t know. Just go ask him.”
“I’m going right now and do just that.”
I bumped into the desk on my way around Piper. She grabbed the sleeve of my sweater. “No, Julia, you don’t really want to talk to them. They’re just stupid troublemakers.”
“But they might know something, and I want to know what they know.” I walked across the room to where Angus and Gary were. Angus was leaning over the terrarium, practically breathing on that poor toad.
“Angus.” My throat was clogged, and he didn’t hear me. I said it again. “Angus.” This time it came out loud.
Angus raised up, bumped his head on the shelf, and turned around. “Yeah, what do you want?”
“What do you know about the broken window out at Emerald Crest?”
“I don’t know nothing, and if I did, why should I tell you? I thought you knew everything about that old haunted, green house?”
Okay, Jesus, if you don’t give me something to say real quick-like, I need you to forgive me for what I’m about to say. “I really don’t know anything. I only said I did. I’m just curious, and you seem to have the most interesting stories about that old house and the man who lives there.”
“Yeah, I know all about it—the house, the window, him, and everything.”
I worked at being super interested. “Oh, tell me. Please, Angus. I like your stories.”
“Somebody’s been snooping around. Broke two windows trying to scare that mean old man that lives out there. Somebody’s going to give him what’s coming to hi
m.”
I had to cross my fingers behind my back and almost cross my eyes to say what I was about to say. “Must have been somebody really brave to go out to that scary old house.”
“Yeah, it was. But they’ll take care of business.”
“Do you know who it was?”
He looked at Gary. “Yeah, I know. Gary does too.”
“So, tell me, who was it?”
“Why do you want to know?”
By then the middle of my forehead was bound to be blood red. It was a Russell family trait when we got angry. My g-pa, my dad, and me. Jackson didn’t have it because he didn’t care about much of anything, so he didn’t get mad often. “Angus, you’d better tell me who did that!”
Angus was smarter than I thought he was. He knew what I was doing. “Well, I ain’t tellin’, and I ’specially ain’t tellin’ you.”
I screwed up my face at him and pushed my index finger right into his chest. “That’s just fine. Don’t tell me. But you’re going to be real sorry because I’m finding out one way or another.” I started to walk away but then turned around. “And Angus, keep your head out of that terrarium. Your breath’s going to kill that poor frog.” I stuck my tongue out at him.
Now what was I going to do? Dad was probably already at the hunting lodge with G-Pa and Jackson by now. He needed to know what I knew, but what could he do about it? And maybe it was nothing. Mr. Hornsby was there, looking after H. What I knew would just have to wait until Dad got home.
The guys were gone, and it was girl’s night at our house Friday night. Grancie came carrying her overnight bag and a hot Zito’s pizza with extra cheese for Mom and green olives for me. She slipped me a brown paper bag when Mom wasn’t looking. Then she hugged me and whispered in my ear. “Take it to your room. I thought you might need a ball of red yarn and your crocheting needle in case you want to crochet in your room.” Grancie thought of most everything. It was like she knew I was giving a lap quilt to H, but I hadn’t told her.
We ate pizza, drank root beer, and watched a movie. I was glad when THE END finally flashed across the screen. That meant ice cream, and I didn’t even care if it was a cold night in November. “Extra pecans and one more squirt of the chocolate syrup, please.”
Mom grinned. “Why not?” She spooned out more nuts and squeezed more chocolate on our ice cream.
We sat around the breakfast table scraping the last streak of deliciousness from our bowls and planned the next day in Elkins. I was right. Mrs. Schumacher had given Dad instructions about buying Christmas gifts all right. They were for the Hornsby children. Mom and Grancie made their list of items and guessed at sizes based on ages. Then they decided where we’d shop and where to have lunch. Grancie said we shouldn’t miss the tea room with the bakery.
“I think Mrs. Schumacher likes Mr. Hornsby’s family. She made them cookies last weekend, and she made biscuits for him to take home too.”
Grancie agreed. “She’s always liked doing things for people. Of course, she’s always taken care of Emerald Crest and Henry. Except for Henry, she’s been alone most of her life with no one else to take care of. She’s been devoted to the Laffertys since she first met them.”
I licked my spoon. “But I thought you said she married and moved out of the mansion.”
“Oh, she did. But her husband was killed in an awful mining accident years ago when she was just a young woman. She never remarried, and she has no children.”
Mom added, “She’s lived alone in town in the little cottage on Poplar Street all these years, but Ben says she’s thinking about selling her house and moving back to Emerald Crest in light of these recent incidents with the broken windows.”
“That makes a lot of sense. Neither she nor Henry are getting any younger, and neither of them should be living alone. It’ll probably be more convenient and less worrisome for both of them. Lord knows that house is big enough for the two of them and two or three more families.”
I listened to every word, but I had to bite my tongue not to mention what Angus had said at school today about knowing who broke the windows. Mom and Grancie couldn’t do one thing about it except worry. Mom would tell Dad when he called to say goodnight. Then he’d worry about it too. Then he’d tell G-Pa. A never-ending circle of worry, so I kept my mouth shut.
I took my bowl to the sink. “Mrs. Schumacher told Dad and me she was grateful to have someone eat all the things she bakes. I think she just likes giving things away like Mr. Lafferty does. She probably talked him into buying Christmas presents for the Hornsby family.”
Grancie joined me at the sink. “Maybe so. Henry gets the pleasure of paying for the gifts and surprising that family, but we get the joy of doing all the shopping.”
I looked up at Grancie. “Shopping’s more fun when you spend somebody else’s money, especially when all the money you have in the world is in a cubby hole in your desk.”
“Ah, that’s where you keep it?” Mom rinsed the dishes and put them in the dishwasher. “Best we get to bed. We’ll get an early start. Let’s say breakfast at seven thirty and on the road by eight thirty. And dress warmly in the morning, Julia. We’ll be in and out of the cold most of the day tomorrow.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I gave goodnight hugs and climbed the stairs. I made two more red granny squares before my eyelids got too heavy to stay open.
It had been a long day, but the shopping was done. It was almost dark at five thirty these days, and Mom wanted to be home before then, but Grancie convinced her to stop for a bag of burgers on our way through Sycamore Hill. We pulled into the garage just as the stars began to twinkle. It took three of us and three trips back to the car to bring all the shopping bags into the family room.
Grancie said, “Glad we decided to buy the gift-wrapping paper at the bookstore. Saved us some time, and now we can get busy tonight right after we make these burgers and fries disappear.”
Mom arranged the bags in the corner. “Great planning. That’ll give us a head start on Christmas. We’ll have gifts under our tree this time next Saturday, and you and your dad can take the Hornsbys’ gifts out to Emerald Crest next Tuesday, Julia.”
I didn’t answer.
Mom said, “Julia, you’ve been quieter than usual all day today. I thought you’d have more fun shopping. Are you feeling all right?”
“Yes, ma’am. I feel just fine.”
Grancie came over and brushed my curls away from my eyes. “I noticed that too. I thought the cup of coffee in the mall midafternoon would perk you up.”
“I didn’t really need perking up. Besides, my latte was mostly milk.”
They don’t know I know about Angus and the broken windows, and they don’t know what I’ve been thinking about all day long.
We ate our hamburgers and the leftover pastries from our lunch at the bakery. Then the wrapping started. Mom cleared the kitchen island and got out all the supplies. “Let’s wrap the Hornsbys’ gifts first. Then we can box those up and put them away.”
Grancie agreed. My job was to peel off the price tags. That was painful and almost impossible, like removing a freckle with a fingernail. Maybe if the shopkeepers had to remove the tags they’d find a better way. Mom wrapped and Grancie did ribbons.
Mom said, “Julia, we need to put some name tags on each gift, but we don’t know the children’s names unless you know them from school.”
“No, ma’am. The only one I know is Ben. He’s in sixth grade. I don’t know the names of the little ones.”
“Then go get a pad of sticky notes off your dad’s desk. We’ll describe the gift on the sticky note, and Mrs. Schumacher can find out their names later.”
I went to Dad’s office and found a sticky note pad. There it was—the TTY. I had been thinking about H all day and wanted to call to see if he was all right, but I’d promised Dad I would always ask him first. Dad wasn’t at home. But a promise was a promise. I turned my head so I couldn’t see the TTY and went straight back to wrapping detail in the kitchen wi
th my sticky note pad.
We finally finished. At least I’d thought we were finished. That was before Mom got out the glue gun and sent me for the bag of silk holly she’d bought. It wasn’t enough to have a ribbon and a big bow. Grancie cut the holly into small sprigs, and Mom glued stems of holly into the ribbon somehow. Mom knew most of us would tear into those presents like our lives depended on it and would probably never even see the holly, but it was important to her. She liked pretty packages.
With the last one finished, the Hornsbys’ gifts were stacked in pasteboard boxes in the mudroom. The gifts for friends and family were stuffed in the laundry room waiting for the tree decorating next week.
Mom put away the wrapping materials. “Hot chocolate, anyone?”
I was the first to say yes. “Right now, that sounds even better than last night’s ice cream.” Mom made real hot chocolate with milk and cocoa powder and a sprinkle of cinnamon. “I think we should send the Russell guys away more often. It’s like we’re on vacation when they’re gone.”
We got cozy in the family room with our warm mugs. Grancie propped up her feet. “No seasoned fir in the fireplace tonight, but it feels oh so good to sit down.” She reached for the throw and put it across her legs.
I couldn’t wait any longer. “I’ve been thinking.”
Mom blotted her lips with her napkin. “Well, that’s a surprise. So that’s why you’ve been quiet all day?”
“Sort of. I can’t think and talk at the same time, at least not about the things that were on my mind today.”
“Sounds like some serious thinking.”
“It was the shopping and thinking about what Christmas will be like around here for our family. And that made me think about what Christmas is like for people like the Hornsbys and Mr. Lafferty. Our family’s small, but we’re all right here together for Christmas Eve at your house after the church service, Grancie. And then everyone is at our house for all of Christmas Day. Aunt Helen and her family come from Pittsburgh every year. And we have traditions about food and going to church and opening presents and making music and telling stories and the Christmas jigsaw puzzle. So many things we do, and we’re all happy, every one of us.”
Silent Days, Holy Night Page 11
