The Christmas Present: The Pocket Watch Chronicles

by Ceci Giltenan

  A lump rose in Anita’s throat and she wouldn’t meet Gertrude’s eyes.

  The old woman continued. “I’ll tell ye why. Because something has made ye sad and like so many people, when ye’re sad, all of yer fears and doubts surface, making ye feel worse. So tell me what’s weighing so heavily on yer heart, Anita?”

  “It’s silly…wait, how did you know my name? I didn’t tell you that. And how did you know those other things, about my husband and children?”

  Gertrude smiled. “It’s a gift. I know everything I need to know about ye, when I need to know it.”

  Anita wasn’t sure why she believed the old woman, but warmth flowed from her and Anita was suddenly confident that this was true. Still, she couldn’t help asking, “If you know so much about me, then why don’t you know what’s bothering me?”

  Gertrude smiled indulgently. “I do know what’s bothering ye. But I’m not sure ye do—or at least ye haven’t fully admitted it to yerself yet. So tell me. Name it. Put it into words.”

  Anita’s chin trembled. “Nothing is going right and Christmas is ruined.”

  Instead of arguing with her, Gertrude smiled. “There, ye’ve said it. Christmas is ruined. And, truth told, ye feel guilty for feeling that, much less saying it.”

  Anita nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

  “So, now that ye’ve put it out there, tell me why Christmas is ruined.”

  Anita sighed and launched into the tale.

  When she had finished, Gertrude smiled at her. “So, there ye go, should-ing on yerself again.”

  “I didn’t say—”

  “I know ye didn’t say it, but ye thought it. Ye thought, ‘My children are adults and both of them have made practical, loving choices that result in their not being here for Christmas Eve. I should not be angry or disappointed over that, but I am.’”

  Anita smiled weakly. “Well it’s true. You said it, I raised good kids. I have no right to be disappointed when they prove it.”

  “Ye’re wrong. Ye have the right to feel whatever ye feel. Ye supported both of them in their decisions didn’t ye?”

  “Yes.”

  “Excellent. That doesn’t mean ye can’t feel disappointment too.”

  “But, I fear Christmas is never going to be the same again.”

  “Oh, my darling girl, change is not always bad. Things evolve. Most babes leave the warmth and quiet of their mother’s womb kicking and screaming. The outside world is foreign and cold. Their lives change in an instant and they don’t like it. However, after they’ve experienced life, I doubt there are many people who would choose to go back to the womb.”

  Anita sighed. “I see yer point. I just wish things were different. I wish the world wasn’t so big. I wish my children could have found jobs closer to home.”

  Gertrude cocked her head. “Some would say technology is such that the world grows smaller and smaller.”

  “It doesn’t feel small to me. There was a time when kids settled in the same town, sometimes the same house they grew up in. Life revolved around a huge extended family. It sounds like Katy’s boyfriend’s family is still like that.”

  “We often want what we can’t have and fail to see the gifts we’ve been given.”

  “If being alone on Christmas Eve is a gift, where do I return it?”

  Gertrude laughed. “Would ye return a clothing gift without trying it on?”

  Anita wasn’t ready to look for silver linings. “I might.”

  Gertrude laughed again. “Maybe I can help you fix Christmas.”

  “That’s kind of you, but you can’t. I mean, even if you had the power to bring my children here by tomorrow evening, I’ve already told you, I understand and support their choices. I’m just disappointed. I wouldn’t want to change their minds or plans.”

  “It’s not their minds or plans I intend to change.”

  Anita smiled. “You can try, but I don’t think anything will make this better. It is just something to be endured.”

  “I see. Well, Anita, sometimes perspective is everything. Close yer eyes.”

  “What?”

  “Go ahead, close yer eyes. I want to show ye something.”

  Anita shrugged and closed her eyes. She listened as Gertrude rummaged in her bag.

  “Ah, here it is. Now open yer eyes.”

  Gertrude held a silver Christmas tree ball, encircled by a red ribbon tied in a bow at the top of the ball. “What is this?”

  “A Christmas tree ornament.”

  “What color is it?”

  “Silver.”

  “I believe it’s gold.”

  “I’m sorry Gertrude, it’s clearly silver.”

  “Ye’re absolutely certain?”

  “Yes, it’s silver with a red ribbon.”

  Gertrude turned the sphere ninety degrees. “It is only silver from yer perspective.” The other half was, indeed, gold. She smiled. “When one changes one’s perspective—looks at something from a different angle—they may see it differently. Ye came to the mall today, hoping to see things that would make ye happy. But instead, it has only intensified the sadness ye were feeling. Perhaps that’s because ye can’t see another perspective.”

  “I’m not sure that there is another perspective.”

  Gertrude smiled indulgently. “Of course there is. There’s always another perspective. Do ye see the girl working the register at Clive’s?”

  Anita nodded.

  “She has to work until closing tomorrow.”

  “Poor girl.”

  “That is only from yer perspective. She is happy to work tomorrow. This is her first job. It is the first time she’s earned her own money. It’s only minimum wage, and she’s a student so she can’t work many hours. Nevertheless, the money she earns is hers. She has spent this season shopping for and buying a little present for everyone in her family with her very own money. She’s never been able to do that, and she is very proud and excited about it. Aye, she has to work Christmas Eve but she is thankful for her job and the modest income it brings her. She considers it a small sacrifice.”

  “That’s lovely.” Anita wasn’t sure how Gertrude knew this. Perhaps she knew the girl or had chatted with her. Gertrude seemed to be the chatty sort.

  “Aye. Perspective. Now, do ye see the three women at the table behind me? An older woman and her two daughters chatting away merrily?”

  “Yes.” Anita had a hard time keeping the wistful tone from her voice.

  “This is the first time in fifteen years that both of her daughters have come down here at the same time to celebrate Christmas with her.”

  Anita’s brow drew together.

  Gertrude nodded. “One comes one year and the other the next. All these years, this was their way to make certain their parents always had a few family members visit over the holidays. They also reasoned having everyone in at once would make the house too crowded and create too much work for their mom. From their perspective this was the perfect solution. Their mom literally had to beg in order to convince both of them to bring their families at the same time.”

  “I guess I understand their reasoning, but still, it’s a shame.” Anita wondered how Gertrude could know this. They must be friends.

  “Aye, it is. But what their mother hasn’t told them is that she’s been diagnosed with an aggressive cancer.”

  Anita’s hand flew to her mouth. “The poor woman.”

  “She believes, and she’s right, that this is her last Christmas here. She didn’t tell them that. She doesn’t want to ruin their Christmas with the weight of this news. But she also doesn’t want next year to roll around and have one of them feel guilty that they missed the opportunity for one last Christmas with mom.”

  Anita was speechless.

  Gertrude smiled. “Again, perspective. She isn’t worrying about what’s to come, or gnashing her teeth about the unfairness of cancer. She decided to give her girls and their families a priceless present—memories of a happy Christma
s. She vowed to simply savor every possible minute and is enjoying perhaps the most wonderful Christmas season of her life.”

  Anita looked at the woman again. Indeed her face was wreathed in smiles and she seemed blissfully happy. “Perspective certainly does change perception.”

  “Aye, it does.”

  Anita smiled. “You were right, changing my perspective helps. It doesn’t make it a lot easier, but it helps. Thank you for reminding me of that.”

  Gertrude waved a hand. “’Twas my pleasure.” She took a sip of her tea. “So, Anita, what would ye do if ye knew for certain this were yer last Christmas on Earth? Acknowledging that nothing can change the plans set into motion, that is.”

  Anita frowned. “Is it?”

  “I doubt it, but I don’t know for certain. As I told ye, I know what I need to know, when I need to know it.”

  “I guess if I knew for certain this was my last Christmas ever, I would do what the lady at the next table is doing. I would try to spend as much time as possible with my family and make it memorable.”

  “I’m certain ye would.” Gertrude canted her head to one side, appearing to consider her for a moment. “Now, my dear, as ye were telling me about yer children not being able to be with ye on Christmas Eve, ye left something unsaid.”

  Anita’s brow furrowed. “No, I didn’t. I told you everything.”

  “Ye told me the facts, but ye didn’t tell me everything. There is a little fear, deep in yer heart, that ye wouldn’t give voice to.”

  This woman was extraordinary. Anita could only stare at her for a moment, and try to blink back tears. Gertrude said nothing, apparently willing to wait as long as she needed to.

  Finally Anita sighed. “I’m afraid—” She swallowed hard. “I’m afraid last Christmas Eve was the last one I will ever spend with both children and I didn’t realize it at the time.”

  Gertrude smiled as a teacher would at an excellent student. “Precisely. And ye’ve just said, if ye knew this were yer last Christmas with them, ye’d make it as memorable as possible. What would ye do, if ye had the opportunity to give someone else one last memorable Christmas with their family? If ye could do that, would ye?”

  Anita smiled. “I doubt that will ever happen. I lack your peculiar skill. But, yes, I would if I could.”

  A very serious expression crossed Gertrude’s face. “I knew ye were the right person for this task.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I need for ye to do something but I must explain a few things first. Will ye spare me a few moments and listen?”

  “Of course.”

  “Anita, ye accepted that I know a great many things about ye, although we’ve never met before.”

  “Yes. I’m not sure why…”

  “The ‘why’ is simple. I am infinitely trustworthy. I was made so by the Creator and I would not—cannot—break that trust. Even as I’m telling ye this, ye know it’s true.”

  Anita nodded, a little amazed. She didn’t have a single doubt.

  “There is a family I know of, the Carrs, a wonderful, large, loving family. Agnes, the matriarch of that family, is about to become very ill. In fact, over the last few months her health has deteriorated and her family fears she isn’t long for this world. Their deepest desire is to have one last Christmas season with her. But, as things stand at the moment, she will have a stroke tomorrow which will ultimately claim her life.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  Gertrude smiled. “Death isn’t always something to be sorry for. Agnes is ready.”

  “But it is never easy to lose a loved one. When it happens at a holiday it somehow makes things feel worse.”

  “Aye, it does. And I would like to give her family one more wonderful Christmas with her. But doing so means she would have to linger in a frail, failing body. Something she fears beyond death itself.”

  “I don’t understand what I can do to help.”

  “I know ye don’t understand yet, but if there was a way that ye could give her family another Christmas with her while saving her from a fate she dreads, and still spend Christmas with yer own family, would ye consider doing it?”

  “Of course I would.”

  “Well then, I assure ye it is possible. Given ye’ve accepted I have unusual abilities, please keep an open mind as I tell ye this next bit.”

  “I will.”

  “Excellent.” She opened her handbag and pulled out a gold pocket watch. “This pocket watch is a conduit for time travel. It allows two souls in different times to trade places.”

  “You’re joking.”

  Gertrude arched a brow at her. “Open mind, Anita.”

  “Okay, I’m sorry. How does it work?”

  “Basically, a person who accepts the pocket watch takes it home, tells it a return word, and puts it around their neck or in a pocket before they go to sleep. When they wake up, their soul and consciousness will be in someone else’s body in another time.”

  “That’s it?”

  Gertrude chuckled. “Well there is a bit more to it but the rules are fairly simple.” She opened the watch, showing it to Anita. “It only has one hand. This hand will advance one day for every day the time traveler is away but only one second will pass in the present. A person using the watch has up to sixty days to experience another life in another time.”

  “So if I did this I would be in some other time for two months, but when I returned it would be one minute after I left?”

  “That’s essentially right. So ye’d be able to help the Carrs, and still be here for Christmas. But, ye don’t have to stay the entire time. In fact, ye must choose to say yer return word sometime within the sixty days, or ye won’t be able to return home ever. And when ye do say it, yer soul will return to yer own body instantly.”

  Anita could scarcely believe what she was hearing. But deep in her soul she knew Gertrude was telling her the truth. “Okay, let’s just say I believe this works. What happens when I return? Agnes will be back in their failing body and also have lost up to sixty days. I think that would be terrible.”

  Gertrude nodded. “And it would be if that happened, but it won’t. Setting Agnes’s specific case aside, normally the person into whose body the time traveler goes will have done something to set events in motion that will result in their death and the time traveler does something immediately that prevents it. Therefore, as the other person’s life was over, when the time traveler returns to their own time, the other person’s body dies and their soul moves on. If, by chance, the time traveler chooses not to return, their body dies here and the other soul moves on.”

  “But this time is different?”

  “It is very different. As I said before, in this case, Agnes will have a stroke on Christmas Eve. If nothing changes, she will die at that moment. If ye accept the watch and enter her body, ye’ll have the strength and will to live on for a while even in a very frail, weak body.”

  “You’re sure this will help? Even if I keep her alive until after Christmas what good will it do? I might be in Agnes’s body, but I’m not really her. I’m a stranger. I won’t know anything about her family, which I’m sure would be distressing to everyone. And in the end Agnes will die the moment I choose to come back.”

  “All valid concerns. But first, let me ask ye something. Do ye remember the last Christmas before yer grandfather died?”

  Anita smiled and nodded. “I was just a little girl. He had lung cancer and was on oxygen. He couldn’t talk much, but he was there, smiling, watching as we unwrapped presents and played games.”

  “So it was simply the warmth of his presence which made that Christmas special?”

  “Yes, I suppose it was.”

  “It will be the same in this case. Her great-grandchildren will forever hold dear the memories of cuddling on her lap, telling her stories and singing songs to her. That is a truly precious gift to give them. But as I’ve said before, this time everything is a little different. While it is true you’ll h
ave your own mind and soul, you will be in her body with her brain and in this case, she will be aware of her family’s love, just not her failing body.”

  “But how do I explain not knowing anything?”

  Gertrude smiled. “You won’t have to explain. Remember, Agnes will have just had a stroke. She’ll be very weak and unable to speak well. Time travelers are generally able to understand and speak the language of their host and ye’ll be able to understand what is said to ye—it’ll feel no different than English does. But ye’ll not be able to speak her language, at least not much because, as a result of the stroke, she won’t be able to.”

  “Will she—that is to say, I—be in pain?”

  “Aye. She is elderly and has the aches and pains that come with her age. And she will be left seriously weakened by the stroke.”

  “And I’ll feel all of that?”

  Gertrude nodded solemnly. “Aye. Every gift has its price and this one will not be easy to pay. But I promise, ye’ll never regret it.”

  Anita’s head was spinning. She was being offered a chance to give an invaluable gift to this family and although it wouldn’t be easy, in the long run it would literally take less than a minute of her time. Finally, her resolve set, she nodded. “I’ll do it.”

  Gertrude smiled and a warmth and peace, unlike any she had ever known, washed over Anita. “I knew I could count on ye. Now ye’ve accepted, I can tell ye a bit more. As I said, ye’ll enter the body of a very dear old soul by the name of Agnes. Lady Agnes Carr, that is.”

  “Lady? A noblewoman?”

  “Aye. She lived in the Scottish Highlands a very long time ago—in the thirteenth century—and she is the grandmother of Logan Carr, Laird of Clan Carr.”