And then the male hopped over to my hand, picked up a seed, and fed it to his mate. He was so red with his black mask and red crest, and she was brown with a crest and a deep-orange beak. Her wings looked like they had been dusted with Mom’s blush. Nobody but H would believe a pair of cardinals was feeding from my hand. They weren’t there long, but long enough that I knew this would be the first of many afternoons in H’s garden. I had been there before and even out to where his parents and mother were buried under the chestnut oaks two weeks ago when the cedar waxwings were moving through. I had been still and quiet just like H and watched them feed from his hands but not mine. Today was different—it was the day H passed his gift to me.
After the birds flew, we both froze like statues. I wanted them to come back, but the sun was way below the mountain behind us, and the sky was getting dark. H clapped his hands together. I was so happy I jumped up, threw the sunflower seeds to the wind, and hugged H’s neck. I was so happy I might have even hugged Jackson’s neck if he’d been there to see me. When I let go of H, he just smiled and clapped his hands again, like he was happy for me and proud that he had succeeded. He didn’t hug back, but that was okay. I knew he would someday.
I wondered how H had known the cardinals were there. He couldn’t hear their chirping. I signed my question and he answered with more signs and gestures. I was amazed that he’d seen their shadows and recognized their flight pattern. H knew everything about birds.
I’d been coming to H’s house every Tuesday afternoon now for months. He had taught me so many signs. I had carved two feathers and was working on a bird. I had learned to sharpen my carving tools. And now he’d taught me how to be so still and quiet that a bird would feed from my hand.
On Wednesday afternoon, I could hardly wait to walk through the door at church—that door with the M&M poster on it. I wanted to see the mountain Dad and G-Pa had built. I wanted to see my choir friends dressed in their costumes, and especially Piper. She’d made up her own ballet dance as a Christmas angel. She would look like an angel for sure. Mrs. Walker planned to be there to see it all today and to hear Mrs. Wilson read the story. I was so ready for this—our dress rehearsal. Mrs. Wilson always told us that nothing would happen in performance that had not already happened many times in rehearsal. I hoped she was right.
Mom and Grancie were there to help with costumes, and we used fake cards for the Prince to hand out. I handed them to Robby and explained. He looked like a prince in purple.
Grancie had made the emerald-green costume for me. Maybe she thought it would look good with my hair and blue eyes, or maybe she thought I should wear green because Mr. Lafferty liked green. The shawl to cover my head was a lighter bluish color, more the color of my eyes.
Mrs. Wilson brought a couple of hoes for the farmers to use. Piper’s mom had even made a tent-like thing out of wooden spindles and nylon fabric. She’d tried to make it look like a house or a tent that was blown down by the storms in my story, and she taught Margaret and Lacey how to make it work so that the house collapsed. Mrs. Wilson also cautioned us about the short ladder behind the mountain and how at the end of the play, we were all supposed to be on the steps like we had followed the Prince right up the mountain.
Finally Mrs. Wilson blew her whistle. “Quiet, everyone. Take your places.”
Piper’s mom checked everyone’s position and reminded them how important their facial expressions were in mime. Mrs. Walker was back again, volunteering her time to teach us sign language just for H, and she talked to us about body language. She was careful not to call it sign language so there was no chance of spoiling the surprise.
Piper’s mom reminded us of our body language too. Then she said, “Let’s roll.”
Mrs. Wilson started reading the story just like last week and the week before. But today, with everybody in costumes and on their best behavior, it felt different. It was so good. All the parents and even the choir members clapped when it was over. I didn’t know if Mrs. Wilson was so excited she wanted to do it again or if she thought we needed the rehearsal, but she wanted us to do a repeat, and we did. It was good again. Even Mrs. Walker bragged on our faces and body language.
After the second time through, Mrs. Wilson sent us all to change out of the costumes. While Mom and Grancie folded them and put them away, Mrs. Wilson had the choir rehearse “Go, Tell It on the Mountain.” Then she turned to me.
“Julia, why don’t you play your piano piece? And then we can practice your solo.” She accompanied me while I sang, but I didn’t sign the song. I was saving that for Sunday and Mr. Lafferty.
When I finished, I asked Mrs. Wilson if Piper could do her dance for us. Piper didn’t have her costume, but she was always ready to dance. She surprised her mom and wanted to start the dance from the top of the mountain. She said she could start from the stool Dad had built behind the mountain, and it would look like she was flying through the air when she came down. Her mom went behind the prop and studied it. She gave Piper the thumbs-up sign and turned on the recording from the boom box.
The song was about angels, and Piper told their story in her dance. When she danced, she even made me feel like I could dance, although I knew I couldn’t.
“Okay, everyone. That was all marvelous. Just wonderful! And I know the performance itself will be just as good. Now, here are some important instructions about Sunday afternoon,” she said as she handed out papers. “We’ll be meeting here at the church at four thirty. Make sure you’re not late, because we’ll have to get costumes on and get ready to go. And we’ll finally be explaining where we’re going!”
She was so proud of how everyone had done in rehearsal, she didn’t just give us M&M’s from the bowl on the piano. She gave every one of us a whole bag of M&M’s.
The rest of the week was busier than usual at the Russell house. The phone rang constantly. There was a flurry of activity—Grancie and G-Pa coming and going, sweet smells of vanilla and chocolate floating through the house, and Christmas music playing all the time. Mom was getting ready for Sunday and for the arrival of Aunt Jane and all her family on Monday. They would be visiting us for almost a week.
All week, I’d had trouble going to sleep. I was too excited. I practiced my song and my signs several times every night. And just before I went to sleep, I prayed. I prayed for everybody to stay well and to remember what they were to do. And I prayed hard that Mr. Lafferty would like it all.
Sunday afternoon, December twenty-third, finally came. We loaded the car and headed to the church. Everybody was chattering and trying to figure out the surprise of where they’d be going. The choir room looked and sounded like the Sycamore Hills Tigers had just won their homecoming football game until Mrs. Wilson blew the whistle. Even the parents knew what that meant. They lined up along the back wall, and the choir took their seats. Mom and Grancie gave us our costumes, and we put them on right where we were.
Then Mrs. Wilson stood in front of everybody. “Well, ladies and gentlemen, we’ve been waiting for this day for more than a month. You children have worked hard, and so many of you have participated in getting us ready for a performance you won’t forget. If we had a drummer, I’d ask for a drumroll before I tell you where we’re headed.”
We didn’t need a drummer. I started stomping my feet, and others began to join in, and before long we had our own drumroll right there in the choir room.
Then Mrs. Wilson said, “I can’t keep it in any longer. I know because I was born in this town that we’ve all wondered about the green mansion out on the hill on the edge of town. That’s where we’re going today. There’s a wonderful man who lives there, and we’re taking Christmas to his house.”
Everyone in the room was as silent and still as H and I had been the day the cardinals fed from my hands. They were shocked. Nobody had guessed that. Then one by one they started clapping. Mrs. Wilson asked Dad to come and explain.
Dad stepped out front. “Yes. Some of you may have heard how decades ago the people
who built Emerald Crest had Christmas parties and invited practically the whole town. And now Mr. and Mrs. Lafferty and their daughter, Mackenzie, are in heaven. But their grandson lives at Emerald Crest. He is a brilliant and kind man who has never been able to hear. He uses sign language, and that’s why Julia wanted to do the play in mime and have you sign the song you’ll be singing. This party is to bring a little joy to Mr. Lafferty. So, with that, let’s go. Follow me.”
It didn’t take long to load up. Dad drove out of the parking lot and led the caravan through town and across Cedar Gulch Bridge. We must have looked like a funeral procession. There it was, that green granite mansion on the hill, nestled between tall cedars all dressed in twinkling lights. At that distance, they could have been stars. Mr. Hornsby had made sure it was beautiful.
I could hardly wait.
It took forever to get up that hill. But finally, the cars all pulled up and lined the circular drive. We took care to get out of the vehicles and form up as planned. All fifty-four of us carried something as we approached the door.
Dad had called Mrs. Schumacher when we came through the gate. She made certain H was in the library out of sight of the car lights coming up the hill. She told Dad he was in front of his computer.
Dad wore his green sweater and red Santa’s hat. I was next to him, and Pastor Franklin stood on the other side of me. I adjusted the napkin covering the contents of my basket and turned to see if Mr. Tinsley was behind me and ready with his fiddle. Dad rang the bell, not for Mrs. Schumacher, but so H would know someone was there.
Mrs. Schumacher greeted us and opened the door wide, and we entered in all our Christmas finery and costumes, singing and swinging baskets of home-baked goodies for the party we were about to have. I was so excited that my hands were sweating through my wool gloves. There hadn’t been a Christmas party here in decades. And now this would be a glorious celebration just like H’s grandmother used to have.
But then I saw Mr. Lafferty’s wheelchair scurrying across the hallway in front of us. Without even looking, he darted into the elevator and disappeared. I was horrified. Maybe my idea hadn’t been such a good one after all. Maybe I should have listened to Dad when he told me Mr. Lafferty didn’t take to folks very well. Just thinking that, all the butterflies of excitement flew right out of my mouth.
The people kept pouring in, though, and Mrs. Schumacher steered them to the great living room, where folks emptied their baskets of holiday cookies and candy and other goodies on the tables already set up. We’d come with the whole party, even the urns of hot cider and a whole stage production. But H wanted nothing to do with it.
I watched Dad and Mrs. Walker and the pastor talking and then turned away. I didn’t even want to know what they were saying. I just wanted to run out the front door and down that hill all by myself. I was the cause of this, and H would never want me to come back.
I looked up. Mrs. Walker was headed straight for me. She took my hand and led me over to where Dad and the pastor were talking in front of the elevator. When I got there, Dad knelt down and said, “Okay, Julia. This is your party. You have to go up and give Mr. Lafferty a proper invitation.”
Now I knew I wanted to run down that hill, even if it was through the woods in the dark. Maybe I could find a hole to fall into like Derrick had. “But I can’t go up there, and I don’t know what to say.”
“Yes, you do, Julia.”
“No, I don’t. I can’t talk to him. I don’t think he likes me anymore.”
Dad looked me straight in the eye. “Julia, just tell him what you told me when you came up with this idea, and then do what you do best: Ask him questions.”
“But I can’t. I can’t sign well enough yet to tell him what I’m thinking.”
I knew I had no choice when Dad pressed the elevator button. I hoped it was stuck and would never open, but it did. When the metal door slid to the side, Dad nudged me in, and the rest of our small group followed. When the door opened again, it was to a wide hallway with green walls and dark wooden floors with light streaks, probably where H’s wheelchair had made tracks. I had never been upstairs before.
Mrs. Schumacher pointed to where there was light coming from underneath the door at the end of the hall. Wooden birds perched on tables lining the hallway—chickadees, cardinals, and even baby birds carved into a wooden nest. We got closer and closer to that door, and the whole time I thought about how I didn’t know what in the world I would say to him. H was going to be so angry he might fire Dad and Mrs. Schumacher for being in on my surprise party, and he’d probably never help poor people or make our town better again, all because of my stupid idea. I hadn’t meant to make him upset. I’d just thought it was time the town brought him a little Christmas.
When we reached the end of the hall, Mrs. Schumacher pressed a button on the door frame. Lights flickered underneath the door. She opened it and stepped in. I could see her signing something to H, but Mrs. Walker didn’t tell us what she said. That meant it was a private conversation. My palms were sweating, and my heart beat really fast, like when I had to read my short story in front of the class and Robby was sitting right in front of me.
Mrs. Schumacher motioned for us to come inside. The room was the biggest bedroom I had ever seen—a huge four-poster bed, a desk, a fireplace between two windows, books everywhere like in the library, and more unfinished sculpted birds and wood shavings on a big table next to the window. Mr. Lafferty sat with his back to us, staring out the window, but there was nothing he could see out there because it was darker than Aunt Ninny’s smokehouse at midnight. He just wouldn’t look at us.
Dad pinched my ear and nudged me closer to Mr. Lafferty. Mrs. Walker was close beside me to be my voice. I was able to sign Merry Christmas, Mr. Lafferty.
He still didn’t move.
“We brought you a Christmas party to your house.” Mrs. Walker moved in front of him and signed for me.
Mr. Lafferty watched her, but his hands lay silent in his lap. Mrs. Walker looked at me, waiting for me to say something.
“Mr. Lafferty, we brought you a party. There are people downstairs with Christmas cookies and candy and hot chocolate, and there are children ready to perform for you. They’re performing a play I wrote just for you.”
His hands were still, but he turned, and his eyes were glued to me. If I didn’t know before, I understood right then why the birds would come to him. He could be as still as one of those statues he carves.
Dad said I was good at asking questions, so I thought I’d give that a try. “Mr. Lafferty, what do you think about our Christmas party? Wouldn’t you like to come downstairs?”
He looked like he wanted to speak, but he didn’t move a muscle, not even his eyes.
“Now, Mr. Lafferty, my grandmother told me all about the Christmas parties your grandparents used to have here—the food and the music and how much fun everybody had. I thought since you liked to hear me play the piano, you would enjoy having a Christmas party.” Mrs. Walker kept signing after I stopped speaking and then folded her hands together. I didn’t know what she’d said to him after I quit talking, but that didn’t work either.
Neither my invitation nor my question and not even my explanation worked. I thought I’d try what Mom used: shame. “Mr. Lafferty, I know you have manners. Your mama and your grandmother taught you good manners, and you always use them when I’m here. I think it’s time you use your manners and come downstairs. You have guests.”
The only muscles that man used were his eye muscles, moving his gaze from Mrs. Walker’s hands to my face. I decided to out-stare or out-be-still him, but that didn’t last long, just enough time to give me another idea. “Well, Mr. Lafferty, if you won’t come downstairs, I’ll do my part right here.” I stood up straight just like Mrs. Wilson taught me. I shook my hands a bit, and then I started to sing my words and sign them at the same time.
What can I give Him, poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb.
Even in the grayness of that room, I could see Mr. Lafferty’s tear-filled eyes, and as I kept singing, he raised his hands and began to sign with me. He knew the Rosetti poem.
If I were a wise man, I would do my part;
Yet what can I give Him?
Give Him my heart.
When I finished, H just looked at me. I didn’t know what to do, so I signed Come with me, please.
He slowly raised his hands and responded. Wait. Then he disappeared out a door.
Mrs. Schumacher whispered, “I think things will be fine, Julia.”
I so hoped she was right, but I was worried he had locked himself in the bathroom and was never coming out.
I needn’t have worried. In just two minutes, he came rolling through his bedroom just like he had that afternoon of my visit when he felt the vibrations of the piano—like he was on the way to the finish line. He had on a different shirt, a solid green one, and his wooly gray hair was combed, and he had a plaid blanket across his lap. Before he took my hand, he signed Merry Christmas. Let’s go. He held my hand all the way to the great living room.
When we came in, everyone clapped the way people who are deaf clap, holding their hands above their heads and shaking them. H responded with Thank you and joined their applause. I led him to where we wanted him to be. No more sheets on the furniture, and there was a big Christmas tree in the corner, and there were presents underneath. Mrs. Schumacher and Mr. Hornsby had been working hard.
G-Pa and Mr. Tinsley had already put the prop at the end of the room, and the lid to the piano was raised to the highest. When everyone was in place, four of our choir members rang handbells—not like the chiming of the hour, but happy sounds. Those bell sounds just bounced around that great big room, and I watched H’s eyes. I knew he felt something.
When the bells finished ringing, Mrs. Wilson announced our play for everyone, and Mrs. Walker interpreted for H. Then Mrs. Wilson began to read my script. I watched my friends do their very best. They used their faces, and they remembered everything they were supposed to do. And when all of us had made it up the steps to the High Mountain, the whole room broke out in applause. That room was like an echo chamber, and it was loud. Even H clapped like a hearing person.
Silent Days, Holy Night Page 19
