The Christmas Angel: Prequel (Love for Christmas 1)

by Christina Ward

  He pushed her even harder and Denise swayed back.

  “We are walking home.” Julia stepped in and frowned at the older boy. “And don’t do that to your sister.”

  Allan narrowed his eyes at her and crossed his arms. “This isn’t any of your business, Julia.”

  “It’s any good Christian’s business to help when someone’s being bullied.” Julia folded her own arms and jutted her chin out.

  Allan furrowed his brows and opened his mouth, but a boy a head shorter appeared right under his nose. Denise’s brother recoiled and his face scrunched in disgust.

  “Who are you?” he spat.

  “You don’t talk to girls like that,” the boy said.

  “Ooh,” Lina whispered into Julia’s ear leaning closer and hiding a grin behind her hand. “It’s that boy who’s always waiting around outside the church. I think he likes you Julia.”

  Lina giggled, and Julia felt her cheeks burning. She had seen him around, but usually he kept his distance. He never came to church and she heard some of the rich kids mock the boy for his scruffy looking clothes. Despite that Julia was drawn to him for some reason.

  Allan rolled up his sleeves and took a step forward. “Don’t you know who you’re talking to?”

  But before the smaller boy had a chance to answer, Julia pushed at Allan’s shoulders. “Stop it.”

  “Yeah, stop it, Allan!” Denise rolled her eyes and stepped up to her brother. “Let’s not keep our parents waiting.”

  Denise grabbed her brother’s hand and glanced over his shoulder down the main road. “Ma’s coming this way. You don’t wanna get in trouble, do you?”

  She dragged Allan away, but not before turning her head and winking at Julia, nearly bumping into a jacket-clad passer-by.

  “I think I gotta go, too, Julia. See you tomorrow!”

  Lina looked at Julia who nodded in reply.

  After a quick hug her friend skipped off into the narrow alley next to the bakery. Abandoned by her friends Julia looked back at the boy stood before her.

  “Hi, Tim.” She smiled.

  He looked almost surprised she remembered his name. The boy took off his small brown skullcap and pressed it to his heart. “Don’t worry,” he said puffing his chest. “I’ll walk you home, Julia.”

  Julia nodded and smiled. She was glad for his company.

  * * *

  “...and then we’ll have a really big turkey for dinner!” Julia finished, having regaled Tim with her families plans for Thanksgiving. The celebration was only a week away and her excitement was starting to bubble over. She looked back at the boy as they stopped outside Julia’s house. “What’re you gonna do for Thanksgiving?”

  Tim shrugged. “Same thing we always do. Eat some porridge, some potatoes.”

  “But it’s Thanksgiving!”

  Tim scrunched up his nose as if he’d smelled something foul. “It’s just people stuffing their faces. It’s not that special. Plus, Mrs. Duck doesn’t like us roaming round too much when there are visitors and I’m sure there’ll be visitors that day.”

  “Mrs. Duck?” Julia couldn’t help laughing at the name, her mind conjuring up images of an angry yellow duck flapping around and quacking at people.

  He quickly looked around, as if worried someone might overhear him.

  “That’s what we call the lady who runs the orphanage, ‘cause she looks like a duck.” He bent his arms and flapped them like a bird, then squatted down and began quacking.

  Julia burst into laughter.

  “Stop that!” But she giggled all the same, her cheeks red with mirth. Tim stopped and cast his eyes over the tall house that stood at the end of Prudence Road.

  “You live here?” he asked, his voice suddenly small.

  “Yeah.” For the first time, Julia felt awkward and self-conscious, suddenly aware how grand the tall dark walls, the wooden columns of the portico with the bay windows at each side must seem to a boy from an orphanage.

  A darkness fell over Tim’s eyes.

  “Julia!”

  She spun around to find her mother framed in the doorway, hands on her hips. Julia gulped at her mother’s expression – eyebrows furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line. Tim swallowed nervously behind her.

  “Get inside Julia, don’t linger on the street.” She looked at Tim, but didn’t say anything. She merely turned back to Julia and motioned her head inside. “Come.”

  Julia dropped her gaze to the ground and stepped forward when someone cleared their throat behind Mama. She looked up.

  “Are you Julia’s friend?” Her father moved forward wrapping his large arm around her mother’s shoulder.

  Tim took off his hat, fingers playing with the frayed edges. “Yes, sir.”

  “What’s your name, son?”

  Julia looked at her father, trying to figure out his intent. He didn’t look angry, but despite the smile his tone was still stern.

  “Tim Smith, sir.”

  “Well, Tim, why don’t you join us for dinner?”

  Tim looked at Julia, eyes wide. Then, he glanced up at her father, her mother, then over his shoulder. But in the end he put his hat back on and said, “Thank you for the kind offer, sir, but I gotta get home. Mrs. Du - Mrs. Delmond will be looking for me.”

  With that, he quickly bowed, turned around and ran.

  “Strange boy,” Julia’s father said, chuckling.

  His wife harrumphed. “He’s an orphan. We don’t know where he came from. You need to stop inviting half the street in for dinner, Jonathan.” She said to and then raised a brow at Julia. “Well, young lady?”

  She walked up to the door and passed through it under her mother’s scolding glare.

  “Don’t you know it’s inappropriate to walk alone with a boy we know nothing about?”

  Julia was about to protest when her father closed the door behind her and burst out laughing.

  “Oh, Hannah. She’s still seven,” he said. “You act as if she’s already at a marrying age!”

  Her Mama glared at him, then turned back to Julia and motioned them both towards the dining room. Julia moved down the hallway, but her father lingered behind a little longer. He brought his fist to his mouth and at first Julia thought he was trying to hide another chuckle, but instead he coughed.

  “You okay, Papa?” she asked turning back from the dining room doorway.

  “I’m fine,” he said, eyes wrinkling with a small smile, but he coughed again, shoulders rising. His face turned plum-colored. Her mother ran circles on his back with her hands.

  “Jonathan,” she said in that voice that always made Julia feel like she’d been doing something bad, “don’t tell me you caught that from one of those - those beggars you were helping again. I told you they were contagious!” She said the last sentence in a whisper, but Julia heard anyway.

  Her father waved his hand. “I’m fine. This is nothing. Now, c’mon, Eliza’s baking pie tonight.”

  They proceeded to the dining room, where Julia reminded herself to ask Eliza to spare a slice for Tim. Maybe she would see him tomorrow.

  Chapter 3

  December 1861

  Julia handed Bessie a fresh jug of water and her nanny filled the tin cup of the scruffy looking man facing them on the other side of the long table. A queue had formed behind him trailing all the way back to the steaming pots of mashed potatoes at the other table. Julia stood on her toes - the church garden was overflowing with people. She smiled at the man.

  The Christmas luncheon turned out to be as popular as ever. Julia breathed in deeply, taking in the scent of the pies laid out to her right. Mama and her friends really outdid themselves this year.

  “Thank you, miss.” The man nodded and stepped aside.

  A hunched old woman took his place. Julia glanced at her bowl, filled with mashed potatoes and a chicken drumstick. The sight of the food made her mouth water. Being busy helping others she hadn’t taken a portion for herself, yet.

  “Could I hav
e some water please?” the woman asked in a frail voice.

  “Of course.” Julia grabbed a jug herself and filled the cup with a smile.

  “Thank you, little one,” the woman said. “You’re that girl who sings in the choir, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, Ma’am,” Julia said, looking into her eyes – one light blue and one a clouded gray. The woman was half-blind. Julia wondered who had helped her to the luncheon. It must have been hard enough to navigate all the wooden tables and benches that now filled the gardens behind the church, let alone walk through the busy streets of their town.

  “Oh, I’m no Ma’am,” the old woman said, “but you have the voice of an angel.”

  She smiled one last time before proceeding to Mrs. Vines for a piece of pie.

  A boy stepped up to take the old woman’s place.

  “Tim!”

  He flashed a smile.

  Julia glanced briefly at her mother stood at the end of the table with three baskets of home baked cookies. Fortunately she seemed busy chatting with a neighbor.

  “What, thinking I wouldn’t come?” He made an obviously fake sad face, but his eyes sparkled. “You sang lovely today, by the way.”

  Julia blushed, as she thought back to the morning service. She had sung a solo after the choir performance. Many of the people at the luncheon told her how beautiful she sounded, how high and warm her voice was, but none of their compliments made her feel fuzzy inside like Tim’s did.

  Bessie cleared her throat and glared at Julia.

  Tim glanced at Bessie. “Sorry, Ma’am.”

  “I’m so pleased you enjoyed it,” Julia said as Bessie slowly ladled mashed potatoes on Tim’s plate. “But you know the sound is even better inside…”

  He stepped to the side letting the next in line take his place. Julia smiled at the young girl who presented the cup she held in both hands. Julia poured the water, but turned her face to Tim.

  “I like it just fine outside.”

  No matter how much she tried to convince him to come to the service he always refused. Even though they quickly became friends after that day he stood up to Allan, the church remained one point of contention between them.

  “So what are you doing here?” she teased, but quickly added, “I mean... This is a Christmas luncheon after all and you said you didn’t celebrate Christmas -”

  “I don’t.” He smirked, then chuckled. “But I wanted to see my friend.”

  Julia blushed. “I’m glad to see you, too. I hope you’ll come to church someday.”

  “I’m on church ground now…” Tim grinned and then shrugged as his expression grew more serious. “I doubt it’ll change my life.”

  “Prayer is a powerful thing,” Bessie murmured beside them.

  “It didn’t change my mother’s life,” he muttered.

  Julia stared at him confused.

  “She raised me on her own,” he said. “One day she fell ill. She prayed and prayed, but God did not listen and she died after months of suffering...”

  “I’m so sorry…” Julia felt that despite sharing all that he still held back some of the sad details of his plight.

  A middle-aged man cleared his throat as he stepped next to Tim. The little girl was long gone. Julia looked up and stammered an apology, before pouring the man some water.

  “Uh, just one more thing before I go.” Tim took out a brown pouch from inside his jacket and gave it to Julia. “Merry Christmas.”

  Before Julia could open it, or even thank him, Tim ran off to get his share of chicken and pie. An older woman had moved to the head of the queue and Julia poured her some water. But the pouch burned a hole in her pocket, so after she served one more person, she set the jug down on the table and stepped aside to check out her gift. She loosened the strings and rolled down the edges of the pouch to reveal a small wooden angel.

  She smiled. But then quickly hid the bag. Her mother wouldn’t be happy she took something from Tim. Street urchin, she called him, the few times she saw him around Julia. Surely he’s up to no good, her mother’s voice rung in her head.

  Suddenly she heard coughing at the opposite end of the table.

  Julia looked up to see her father hunched over, hacking into a piece of cloth. Her mother spoke to him while patting his back.

  “Is Papa all right?” Julia turned to Bessie.

  The nanny looked at her and hesitated for a moment, then she gave Julia a small smile. “He’ll be fine. Your Papa is a strong man.”

  “Mama said it’s because he’s always around sick and poor people.” Like Tim, she knew her mother would add.

  Bessie shook her head. “Sickness strikes no matter who you are. It’s God’s will my dear.” She lost her smile for a moment. “But your father’s a good man and no matter what your Mama thinks, he won’t stop helping people.”

  Her eyes landed on the bulge in Julia’s pocket where she hid the gift from Tim. “Oh, what’s that?”

  Julia blushed, then covered it with her hand.

  “No, no, don’t hide it.” Bessie smiled and nudged her. “It’s from that boy, isn’t it?”

  Julia nodded and took out the angel figurine. She liked how the smooth wooden surface felt on her palm.

  Bessie grinned. “It looks pretty, but don’t let your Mama see it.”

  “You think she’ll get angry?”

  “Not exactly.” Bessie smiled and turned to the little girl who just walked up to them. She poured the water and winked at Julia. “Let’s just keep it our secret, all right?”

  “All right.” Julia took a peek at her little angel. She left the pouch on the table and hid the figurine in her jacket pocket, right next to her heart.

  Chapter 4

  July 1862

  The last few weeks had seemed so surreal, like any time now her father would wrap his big arms around her and lift her up to the sky. Even though she was only ten Julia knew that would never happen again. She looked across the grieving faces gathered around the coffin.

  “No! No!” Her mother’s screams were louder than the thunder that rolled across the gray sky, even though it was still eight in the morning.

  A sharp rain shower pelted the small crowd, their wet, dark clothes resembled their faces weighed down with water and grief. And all this just a week after Julia’s birthday. She remembered his last smile refusing to think about the final days when consumption ravaged his body.

  Consumption. That was what the doctor said. Once the news spread people stopped visiting. Even Mr. and Mrs. Vines stopped coming over. Julia hardly ever saw her friend Lina. Contagious, she remembered that word being mentioned too. Especially at school. No one but Tim would walk home with her after school. But he never came to her doorstep.

  “I told him.” Julia’s mother sobbed into her handkerchief as Eliza held her shoulders. “I told him he’d just get sick helping those people!” She looked up at Eliza, eyes red and streaming tears. “I told him they’d kill him! Those beggars! Those street urchins!”

  Julia wanted to cover her ears. If her mother had been unreasonable before, Julia’s father’s death had pushed her over the edge.

  “Hush now, Mrs. Bennet.” Eliza rubbed her arms.

  Bessie held Julia close to her, but it didn’t diminish the cold she felt. And it wasn’t just the rain. Maybe her Mama was right. Not many people came to the funeral. Julia’s father was a kind man, never one to refuse help to someone in need. He seemed to have many friends, but now, only a handful were around. Were they still afraid of the consumption that took him?

  Julia pressed herself into Bessie’s hip, turning her crumbling face away from the people. “Why’d God take my Papa?”

  Bessie held her tight.

  “Why?” Julia sniffed, then brought her head up, tears still on her face. But Bessie had no answer.

  As soon as the pastor had finished his prayer Julia’s mother screamed again. The fight seemed to have seeped out of her bones when she crumpled, and the men rushed to her aid.


  Julia looked away. As she tried to find solace in the pines swaying in the wind at the edge of the cemetery, she suddenly caught sight of some movement under the largest tree. She recognized him by the skullcap. Tim. His usual cheerful grin was gone and he looked back at her with sad eyes that told her ‘I know your pain.’ But before she could react he disappeared behind the tree and a moment later she saw him running back towards town.

  Julia clutched Bessie’s skirt in her hand.

  “Let’s go, Julia,” her nanny said wrapping her arm around Julia. “Time to go home now. Your Mama needs rest.”

  Bessie pressed her lips, then bent down and took Julia’s face in her hands.

  “You need to be strong for your mother now, you hear? She’ll rely on you, Julia.”

  Julia nodded, but none of it registered much in her mind. What would she and her mother do from now on? She still couldn’t believe her Papa was gone, even though she’d seen his ashen face, touched his cold hands, and watched as a plain white cloth swallowed whole his lifeless body.

  Bessie tugged her hand and Julia let her nanny lead her back home.

  Chapter 5

  December 1862

  Christmas is colder than usual, Julia thought to herself as she walked down the stairs to the parlor. She wiped away the tears threatening to tumble down her face. Bessie’s luggage stood by the door. Her last day with us.

  Bessie was the last to go. Papa’s big heart had left them struggling for money. Some of the servants stayed a little while to help out her Mama for old times sake. But in the end, they had families to feed too. One by one they all left. Bessie had stayed the longest. She had promised Julia she wouldn’t have to spend Christmas alone with Mama.

  Julia didn’t know what she’d do without her nanny. Her mother rarely talked to her about anything aside from urging her to study or scolding her for shoddily done chores or lecturing her on the proper lady-like behavior. She hadn’t mentioned Papa’s name in the months that followed his death.

  Julia spied the piano at the center of the room. She always dusted it first… it was her quiet rebellion. But she hadn’t dared to play. But today was Christmas… She made her way towards it, sat on the stool and composed herself, her fingers hovering over the keys. What song would her father play this Christmas? Julia straightened her back as her Papa had taught her and began to play.