“Did you like it, doll?” Veronica asked as they went out into the bright daylight where the sunshine shimmered on the brilliant white snow.
“Yes.” Lucy blinked. “Thank you for taking me, Veronica.” She almost questioned Veronica about being “broke” but decided not to say that because it sounded ungrateful. Perhaps Veronica had gone to a bank or something. She knew that grown-ups sometimes went there to get money, although Mama had told Lucy they couldn’t do that anymore. “Do you know what time it is? I don’t want to be late for rehearsal.”
Veronica looked at the watch George had loaned her to keep track of the time. “Oh dear, I completely forgot about that. We’d better hurry.” She took Lucy by the hand and partly walked and partly ran down the boardwalk toward the church. “Now remember, Lucy, the best part of acting happens inside of you. You must think that you are an angel, and then you will act like one.”
Lucy laughed. “I don’t think I’m much of an angel.”
When they reached the church steps, Veronica paused to catch her breath. “Here we are!” she puffed. “Now go—and be the most beautiful angel, doll.”
“Do you want to come in?” Lucy asked hopefully.
“Not this time.” Veronica patted her hair. “I think I’ll call George to come pick me up. It’s time for my afternoon nap.”
“I better go in.” Lucy grabbed the door handle, hoping she wasn’t late. But once inside the church, she saw that the other children were already wearing their costumes and getting in their places, and Mrs. Babcock did not look the least bit pleased to see her.
“Lucy Turnbull, you are twenty minutes late,” she scolded. “I’ve given your part of an angel to Molly Price. Now you will have to be a sheep.” She pointed to a heap of wooly sheep-colored blankets, just like Lucy had worn when she played a sheep last year. “Hurry and get ready now.” Mrs. Babcock clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention.
Feeling a mixture of shame and deep disappointment, Lucy picked up a grayish and slightly musty-smelling blanket and threw it over her head and back like a cape. With burning cheeks and teary eyes, she walked over to join the other sheep, three slightly unruly boys who didn’t even want to be in the pageant. Knowing that she probably deserved this punishment, she got down on her hands and knees with the snickering boys, and hanging her head low, she wondered how she would explain this to Mama.
After practice ended, Helen Krausner came over to Lucy. “That’s just terrible that you have to be a sheep again this year. It’s so much more glamorous playing an angel. The angel costumes are even prettier this year than last year.”
Lucy didn’t know what to say, but she was determined not to let Helen make her feel any worse than she already felt. “Well, they can’t be as glamorous as the movie actress who’s staying at our house.”
Helen looked doubtful. “You have a movie actress staying at your house?”
“Well, she’s not a star yet, but she’s on her way to Hollywood. Her name is Veronica Grant, and the reason I’m late is because she took me to see Beg, Borrow or Steal at the theater today.”
“You saw that movie?”
Lucy nodded. “With Veronica. Wait until you see her, Helen. Veronica Grant is the most glamorous person that’s ever been in Maple Grove.”
“When will I see her?” Helen demanded.
Lucy thought. “Well, if you’re in church tomorrow.”
“I don’t know about church.” Helen frowned. “My father doesn’t want to go . . . sometimes.”
“Oh . . .” Lucy nodded, trying to figure this out.
“But at the pageant, for sure.”
“I promise to introduce you to her.”
“She’s really going to be an actress?”
Lucy nodded eagerly. “I think she’ll be really good too.”
As the girls parted ways, Lucy wondered why she’d gone to such efforts to impress someone like Helen Krausner. Really, what did it matter what Helen thought?
10
You’re being awfully quiet,” George said. Long blue shadows cut into the white snow as he drove Lucy away from town after the dress rehearsal. “Anything wrong?”
Lucy felt her chin trembling as she shook her head no.
He gave her a concerned look. “You sure about that?”
She bit into her lower lip, feeling hot tears burning in her eyes. But she was determined not to cry.
“Did something bad happen today? At the movies? Or at pageant practice?”
The caring tone in his voice broke her, and suddenly she was sobbing. George pulled the car over to the side of the road, right next to Clara’s old house, which looked even sadder and lonelier in this dusky blue light. George reached into his pocket, then handed her a handkerchief. “Want to talk about it?”
She wiped her eyes and nose and slowly nodded. Then, as if someone had popped the cork off a bottle, it all came pouring out—how she’d been late and demoted from an angel to a sheep. “The sheep are the worst roles to get in the whole pageant.”
George reached over and patted her on the shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he told her. “Is there anything I can do? I’d be happy to go explain to Mrs. Babcock that it’s not your fault and—”
“No,” she said quickly. “It’s too late to fix it.”
He slowly nodded, rubbing his chin like he was thinking. “You know the real reason we celebrate Christmas, don’t you? I mean, beyond Santa Claus and jingle bells and Christmas trees?”
“You mean because Jesus was born?” she asked.
“Yes . . . but did you ever think about how Jesus was born? I mean, have you considered how it was such a humble birth, in a small barn . . . how he was laid in a hay trough . . . how the Son of almighty God humbled himself to be born in such lowly conditions? Have you thought about it like that?”
She shrugged, unsure of what George was trying to say. Of course she knew all about the stable and the manger. Wasn’t she playing a sheep in the pageant?
“Jesus could’ve been born in a fine palace, Lucy. After all, he was the Son of God. But for some reason God chose humble beginnings for his Son. Do you ever wonder why?”
Lucy shook her head.
“I think it’s because God wanted to show that his love could reach to everyone, no matter who they were, from the poorest of poor to great kings. Remember the three wise men who brought treasures to Jesus?”
She nodded. “Some of the older boys are playing the wise men. They’re singing the three kings song.”
“Here is what I’m thinking, Lucy. You getting to play the lowliest of animals is a little bit like Jesus must have felt by getting to be born in a stable.”
She tilted her head to one side as she thought about this.
“Not only that, but do you know what animal Jesus is sometimes called?”
“An animal?” She frowned. Surely no nice person would call Jesus an animal.
“He was called the Lamb of God, Lucy.”
“Oh . . . yeah . . . I do remember that now.”
“If Jesus, the King of Kings, was called the Lamb of God, maybe it’s not so bad being a sheep in the Christmas pageant . . . don’t you think?”
“I’m not sure, George. The truth is, I still want to be an angel.” She forced a little smile. “But that does make me feel better.”
He grinned. “Good. Now we’d better get home. Your mother said dinner will be early tonight in order for us to get to the Christmas dance on time.”
“The Christmas dance!” she exclaimed. “I completely forgot about that.” The sky was dusky periwinkle now. “You better hurry, George!”
The house seemed busier than ever when Lucy went inside. Mr. and Mrs. Dorchester were sitting on the couch as a radio program with Christmas music played loudly. Veronica was all dressed up in a shiny red gown which seemed to match her painted nails and lips. Lucy blinked to see how low it was cut, both in the front and in the back. Wouldn’t she get cold in it? However, her cheeks looked more flushed than usual
as she danced around the front room as if to entertain the elderly guests.
“You look beautiful,” Lucy paused to tell Veronica. “Like a real movie star.”
“Thank you, doll.” Veronica rewarded her with a flashy smile. “I feel like a real movie star tonight.”
Lucy excused herself as she rushed toward the dining room where Mama was placing food on the already set table. “Sorry I’m late,” she told Mama.
“That’s all right. Hang up your coat and see if Grandma needs help in there. We’re eating early tonight because—”
“I know,” Lucy called as she pushed through the swinging door. “George told me all about it.”
“There you are,” Grandma said with a flushed face. “How was the motion picture, Lucy?”
“It was wonderful.” Lucy peeled off her coat. “Well, maybe not exactly wonderful, but I did enjoy it.”
“Here,” Grandma set a bowl of cream on the table, handing Lucy the eggbeater. “Can you whip this for me?”
“Sure.”
“What was the title of the picture you saw?”
“Beg, Borrow or Steal,” Lucy told her. Then as she turned the handle on the beater, trying to keep it balanced on the bottom of the slippery bowl, she told Grandma a bit about the movie.
“Goodness,” Grandma said. “It sounds like a bunch of crooks and tricksters to me.”
“They weren’t all bad,” Lucy said defensively. “The father learned his lesson by the end of the movie. And the wedding was absolutely beautiful.” As she was describing the gown, Mama came in.
“Speaking of gowns . . .” Grandma frowned at Mama. “Why aren’t you dressed for the dance by now? Veronica is out there parading around in her fancy finery.”
Mama sighed as she held out the skirt of her stained apron. “Because I’m still working. Why would I want to take the chance of soiling my silk dress?”
“That’s what aprons are for.” Grandma handed her a bowl of green beans.
“Oh, Mother, that blue silk is not the kind of dress one wears an apron with.”
“Did you try it on?” Lucy asked eagerly. “Did it fit right and look pretty?”
“I had to make some alterations,” Mama told her, “but I think it will be just fine, Lucy.”
Soon it was dinnertime, and it seemed everyone had something to talk about. Mrs. Dorchester had spent the afternoon helping with wedding preparations at the Farleys’, which, according to her, were frivolous nonsense. “I did enjoy seeing my niece, but why she wants to make such fussy little decorations is beyond me.”
Veronica began to tell about the wedding scene in the movie, describing in detail the preparations for that lavish wedding. “Of course, these were very wealthy people,” she said, “not just simple farm folks.”
Lucy wanted to point out that they weren’t as wealthy as they were pretending to be and that their wealth was wrongfully gained, but by then Veronica was so caught up in describing the bride’s costume that Lucy couldn’t help but listen.
“It really was beautiful,” Lucy told them. “She looked like a fairy princess.”
“Someday I’d like to have a wedding like that.” Veronica looked longingly at George, as if she wanted him to participate in it.
“I’m sure that all girls dream of weddings,” he said. He tipped his head to Lucy. “How about you? Do you dream of a wedding?”
Lucy giggled and looked down at her plate.
The conversation continued, moving faster than usual, and Lucy felt lost through most of it. That was because she was still trying not to feel bad over losing her part as an angel . . . and trying to decide when it would be best to tell Mama. Before she knew it dinner was over, it was time to clean up, Mama went off to get dressed for the Christmas dance, and Lucy was carrying dishes to the kitchen.
She was just starting to dry dishes when Mama came into the kitchen. Lucy almost dropped the saucer in her hand as she stared at the woman in the silky blue dress. “Mama, is that really you?”
Mama laughed as she did a little turn that made the skirt swirl out at the bottom. Lucy dried her hands and went closer to see better. Mama’s light brown hair was piled higher than usual on her head, and holding it in place was a shiny pin with white and blue jewels. “Are those real diamonds?” Lucy asked in wonder.
“No, of course not. They’re rhinestones.”
“And that pin?” Lucy pointed to the smooth white brooch on the front of Mama’s dress.
“That was mine,” Grandma said proudly. “Your grandfather gave that to me on our wedding day. It’s a moonstone.”
“A moonstone,” Lucy said slowly. “It does remind me of a moon.” She threw her arms around Mama. “Oh, Mama, you are beautiful.”
Mama smiled down at Lucy—really smiled—and Lucy thought her heart was going to burst just to see that smile. “Thank you, Lucy.”
“You are the most beautiful lady in the whole world,” Lucy told her.
Mama’s smile got bigger. “You don’t think my shoes look a bit silly with this dress?” She held out a foot.
“Those are your good Sunday shoes,” Lucy reminded her. “I think they look just fine.”
“So do I!” Grandma reached over and pinched Mama’s cheeks.
“What are you doing?” Lucy asked.
“Just giving her a bit of color.”
Lucy laughed. “I think she’s already got lots of color.”
Mama glanced at the kitchen clock. “Well, I feel a little nervous about this, but I suppose I should go out and tell them I’m ready.”
“I’ll get your good coat and your black leather gloves for you,” Lucy offered.
“And my wool scarf,” Mama said. “It will be cold tonight.”
When Lucy joined the others in the front room, Veronica already had on her fur-trimmed coat and was looking at Mama with a curious expression. However, it was George’s face that really got Lucy’s attention. His eyes were fastened on Mama, and his mouth was smiling. “Here you go, Mama.” Lucy started to hand Mama her things.
“Let me help with that,” George offered as he reached to take Mama’s black coat. Lucy waited as he helped Mama into it.
Feeling more happy than she had imagined possible considering all that had gone wrong in her life recently, Lucy handed Mama her gloves and scarf. “I hope you have a real fun time at the dance tonight.”
“Oh, I’m sure I will,” Mama told her. “Now don’t you stay up late, you hear?”
Lucy nodded obediently, and just like that, they were off. Lucy wondered what their evening would be like. Judging by the look in Veronica’s eye, it would be interesting at least. Hopefully Mama would tell Grandma about it in detail . . . and Lucy would be close enough to listen.
True to her promise, Lucy went to bed on time. Grandma walked her to her bedroom and offered to help her get ready for bed, but Lucy could tell she was tired. “That’s all right.” She hugged her tightly. “I’m a big enough girl to get myself to bed. I just let Mama help me because she likes to so much.”
Grandma chuckled as she gently tugged one of Lucy’s braids. “I just hope your mama is having a good time tonight.”
“Me too.” Lucy sat down to unlace her shoes. She wanted to ask Grandma if she thought George was in love with Mama, but she remembered how Grandma had responded to that last time. Besides, Grandma hadn’t been in the front room to see how George’s eyes had lit up when he was looking at Mama in her fine blue dress.
“Good night, Lucy.” Grandma bent down to kiss her cheek.
“Good night.” Lucy pulled off a shoe. “Sleep tight and don’t let the bedbugs bite.”
“Lucy!” Grandma put a forefinger over her lips. “Don’t let the guests hear you saying that.”
Lucy giggled. “Sorry. Good night, Grandma.”
“You will say your prayers, won’t you?”
Lucy nodded . . . but in her heart, she wasn’t so sure. What if God was mad at her for being late to practice and then not telling Mama about
it? Despite George’s encouragement, Lucy felt worried. By the time she was in her nightgown, her feet were cold as ice, so she hopped into bed and tried not to think about anything at all. Not angels or sheep or even ponies. But Mama’s sweet smile stayed fixed in her memory, and if she’d been of a mind to pray, she would’ve prayed that Mama and George were having a really great time at the dance and that they would fall truly in love with each other. As it was, she felt too guilty—and sleepy—to pray at all.
To Lucy’s surprise, Veronica made an appearance at the breakfast table on Sunday. But something told Lucy that she was not in a very happy mood. For that matter, neither were George or Mama. In fact, everyone seemed quiet and subdued, especially after the joviality of their last meal together. In between feeding chickens and filling the wood box, Lucy spent much of the morning trying to pin down Mama in regard to last night’s festivities, but Mama had been tight-lipped and something else too. Lucy thought perhaps Mama was distracted. That’s what Mama said about Lucy sometimes, when her mind was somewhere else. Before she could get to the bottom of it, it was time to go to church.
As usual, the Brewsters stopped by to offer a ride. George also planned to drive. However, his roadster only had one seat, so Grandma and the Dorchesters decided to go with the Brewsters, and Mama was about to join them when George stepped in.
“Why don’t you ride with me, Miriam?” he said cheerfully.
The Christmas Pony Page 9
