Christmas Quilt Anthology

by Barbara Baldwin

  Is a sight from childhood I hold quite dear.

  So light a lantern, its glow to shine,

  Across the miles on Christmas Eve.

  To remind us all, young and old,

  Of that wonderful magic—if you believe.

  Sugar and Spice

  Megan stood on the steps, shivering in her threadbare coat, trying hard to hide her trepidation. The house towered in front of her, stark and foreboding without a glimmer of welcoming light from any window. Even as she tilted her head back, she couldn’t see the top of the mansion. She blinked, snowflakes sticking to her lashes.

  “Home?” Teddy tugged her hand, bringing Megan back to their immediate need.

  “I hope so, sweetie,” Megan whispered as she grabbed the brass knocker. The cold, hard metal striking wood echoed hollowly in her heart. How had they ever come to this pass? Not a fortnight ago, her mother had been happily preparing their home for the Yuletide season. With a sigh, Megan turned her thoughts away from the tragedy, raising her hand and clanking the knocker once again.

  Teddy and Annie began arguing behind her. “Sh,” she admonished, though she couldn’t blame them. It was cold and dark and snowing. Their food had run out by the time they reached Kansas City. Now, here in Denver, she knew not what to expect.

  Their aunt—actually she was Father’s aunt—hadn’t acknowledged her telegram. No one had met them at the train station, and when she had asked directions to Miss Matilda Parks’ house, the trainmaster had certainly looked at her askew.

  From deep within the mansion, Megan heard footsteps. She squeezed Teddy’s and Lucas’ hands until Lucas protested, pulling away and crying. This caused Teddy and Annie to go back to their bickering with Annie accusing Teddy of pinching her.

  Her nerves frazzled, her stomach rolling with hunger and nervousness, Megan snapped at her siblings. “Please quit your squabbling! What are we to do if our aunt doesn’t want us?”

  Unfortunately, the door had opened midway through her rampage and she heard her pinched voice echo through the long hall. She blushed, the only warmth in her cold, hungry body.

  “Welcome, Miss,” the deep, gentle voice came from the shadows. A jolly, quite round face appeared from behind the door. “Quickly, come in.”

  Teddy and Annie instantly quieted. “Are you Santa Claus?” Teddy asked.

  A wonderful smile lit the man’s face, and Megan just knew things were going to work out. “Actually, no,” replied the man, “but I would like to think—”

  “Mr. O’Grady, close that door! Do you want me to freeze to death?” From off on the left, Megan heard the high-pitched voice of a woman. Feeling little difference in temperature from outside, she wondered who the cranky person was and why she worried so about what couldn’t be much of a loss of heat. Regardless, she hurried the children inside and with a gloved finger to her shivering lips, she begged with her eyes for them to behave. Before she could introduce herself, the voice came again.

  “Tell those urchins I will not tolerate any noise or interference with my routine. They are not to seek me out, nor bother any of my possessions. Keep them to themselves.”

  Mr. O’Grady moved surprisingly fast over to the partially open door. As he pushed the heavy wood door shut, an apologetic look in his eyes, he said in a clear voice, “Yes, Miss Parks, I shall be certain to tell them.”

  Megan’s heart sank.

  * * * *

  Megan had just returned to the kitchen from hanging sprigs of mint in every room near a window so the wintry sun could warm the leaves and make the sweet smell linger. Ever since they had arrived at Park Manor, she had thought the house smelled musty and old. When Mrs. O’Grady had sent her to the cellar for a jar of preserves and she had found the mint, she put it to good use.

  “This place is humungous!” Teddy came running into the kitchen and slid to a halt. Annie and Lucas came tumbling after him.

  “Teddy says there’s ghosts.” At ten, Annie thought she was too old for fairy tales. “Tell him it’s just crabby old Miss Parks snoring at night.”

  “Annie Touchase, shame on you!” Though Megan had her own thoughts about the mistress of the house, she had hoped her feelings hadn’t become apparent.

  Mr. O’Grady, gardener, butler and all around handyman, chuckled over Annie’s statement.

  “Mr. O’Grady, you hush now,” his wife, Hattie, admonished. The two of them had taken all the Touchase children immediately to their hearts, finding them beds and filling their stomachs with Mrs. O’Grady’s delicious hot bread and stew. Megan could only wish they were her relatives instead of the illusive, and yes cranky, Miss Parks.

  Buzz-z-z-z went the servant’s bell right above Megan’s head. She jumped, as she did every time.

  “’Tis teatime,” Hattie said, hurrying to put together the afternoon tea tray.

  “Out of the way, munchkins.” Megan shooed the children off to the side. The kitchen had become the favorite gathering place for the children. It was warm and cozy, unlike the rest of the drafty old house. Besides, it was one of the few rooms they were allowed to enter. Lucas moved to a chair by the worktable, thumb in his mouth, silent as always. He hadn’t spoken a word since the accident that had killed their parents.

  “I’ll take that.” She lifted the tray from Hattie. She insisted on helping Hattie, perhaps as a way of repayment, even though no one asked it of her.

  “Miss, you don’t have to do that.” Hattie released the tray even as she denied Megan.

  “It’s time to beard the lion in her den, as my father would say.” Megan had decided that very morning to intrude on Miss Parks’ self-imposed prison and thank her in person for taking them in. She forced a smile to stiff lips.

  “Which way is the lion’s den?”

  * * * *

  “Come in, come in. What are you knocking for, Hattie? You never knock.”

  Megan couldn’t understand why anyone would want to be cranky all the time, but apparently Miss Parks made a point of it.

  “Excuse me, but I’ve brought your tea today.” Megan slipped around the chair that sat by the fire and deposited the tray on the side table.

  “Well, who are you and who told you to come in here?” Megan was surprised at the strength of her voice, because Matilda Parks was a wrinkled, little, old lady no bigger than Annie. Megan dropped a curtsy, and when she looked up, she gazed into the bluest eyes she had ever seen. Eyes like her father’s, Megan thought, remembering how she had always thought her father’s eyes could see into her very soul. She felt the same about Miss Parks.

  “Who are you?”

  “Megan Touchase, ma’am. I’m your nephew William’s oldest daughter.”

  “Oldest? How many are there running all over, anyway? And don’t deny it. I’ve heard them squealing like little pigs and stomping like elephants.”

  Megan couldn’t help but smile. Though she tried to sound cranky, Miss Parks also sounded interested. “It would be hard to be both a piglet and an elephant at the same time, ma’am.”

  “Don’t sass me, child.”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am. I meant no disrespect. I will try to keep my sister and two brothers out of sight...and sound.” Megan curtsied again and turned to walk away.

  “You look like your father, girl.” An odd note entered the old woman’s voice and Megan read it as a special gift. Perhaps things would work out after all.

  Over the next several days, Megan continued to take afternoon tea into the drawing room. Some times, Miss Parks rang the bell other than at teatime. She always came up with an excuse, asking Megan to bring her something—a magazine, the mail, a fresh pen—even though she could easily reach the writing desk. And she always asked questions.

  After awhile, Megan caught on to her, and decided to introduce her to the children. She hoped that by seeing the children and visiting with them, Miss Parks would know they were good and weren’t going to destroy her house full of antiques. Then perhaps, they could live elsewhere besides their bedrooms a
nd the kitchen. Perhaps they could become a family again.

  The very next day, scrubbed and tucked and polished, Megan lined the children up to the side of Miss Parks’ chair.

  “I’d like to introduce you to Annie, Teddy and Lucas,” Megan said in her very best voice. “Annie is ten, Teddy is eight, and Lucas is four,” she added as she tried to pull Lucas’ thumb out of his mouth.

  “Harrumph,” Miss Parks squinted at each child in turn. “How can I remember all those names?”

  “We’ll be good, ma’am,” Annie offered.

  “Harrumph,” was all the answer she got.

  “Don’t you like children?” Teddy would have to open his mouth, Megan thought.

  Miss Parks scrunched up her mouth in thought. “How do I know? I never had any.”

  “But you were one once yourself.” Teddy refused to let loose the cat’s tail, so to speak.

  Megan groaned.

  “I don’t remember,” Miss Parks grumbled, then waved her hand, shooing them away.

  Megan quickly ushered the children out into the hallway and away from the sitting room.

  “I don’t like her; she’s crabby,” Annie whined.

  “Be nice.”

  “Why? ’Cuz she’s our only relative?”

  “That’s part of it.”

  “’Cuz she’s old?” Teddy added.

  “No, because she is just like you and me. You like for people to be nice to you, don’t you?”

  * * * *

  Tap, tap, tap.

  The children heard the sound of Miss Parks’ cane long before she could find them. They weren’t supposed to be in the good living room; the formal sitting room she called it. Annie couldn’t understand why she named it that, because nobody except her ever sat there. In fact, nobody ever came to the house to sit or stand anywhere.

  Tap, tap, tap.

  Quickly, Teddy and Annie gathered their few toys.

  “Lucas, hurry.” Annie touched his shoulder to get his attention. Lucas glanced up from his pile of building blocks, shook his head, and continued to stack one block on top the other.

  “We have to go, Lucas!” Annie heard the tap, louder this time, and knew for a certainty cranky old Miss Parks shuffled just beyond the door. She tried tugging her brother’s arm, but he jerked it away, and even when she frantically knocked on the floor to indicate the cane, he refused to leave.

  “Okay, fine, but you’ll be sorry. She’ll eat you up.” Annie hurried after Teddy, knowing cranky old Miss Parks wouldn’t eat anyone, but not wanting to get caught in her sitting room.

  “What are you doing in my room, boy?” Matilda questioned as she saw one of them sitting, pretty as you please, in the middle of her floor. She couldn’t remember this one’s name, and hadn’t seen any of them since the day the oldest girl introduced them. The child didn’t answer; didn’t even acknowledge her presence. She poked him with her cane.

  He looked up then, and smiled; blue eyes twinkling, cherub cheeks as red as his little mouth.

  “Harrumph!” Matilda muttered and turned away, but she glanced out of the corner of her eye as she shuffled over to her favorite chair. That must be the mute one Mrs. O’Grady had mentioned. He continued to look up and smile at her from where he sat on the floor, his tousled blonde curls and bright pixy features making him look quite normal.

  She shrugged. What do I care? Why should I care? They had invaded her house, sneaking around trying to be quiet when she knew they were there. Hanging mint up in the windows. Matilda had asked Mrs. O’Grady why she hadn’t thought of that long ago. Made the house smell good. Why didn’t they just make themselves known, instead of trying so dad-blamed hard to be quiet?

  Startled out of her revelry, she looked to where the little boy now stood at her feet, thumb in mouth, and the other hand yanking on her skirt. “What now?”

  The words hadn’t even left her mouth before he climbed upward onto her person. Too startled to move, she did nothing as he settled himself against her with his thumb still in his mouth. He pointed to his pile of blocks, then patted her chest with his chubby little hand. With a sigh, he closed his eyes, little sucking noises coming from him as he settled in for his nap.

  Matilda, in awe that the boy seemed not to fear her as the others did, looked at the pile of blocks he had indicated. She squinted and looked again. Crooked chunks of wood with rough-cut, painted letters spelled out two words—“purty lade”. Matilda started to laugh out loud, but when the boy snuggled deeper against her, she settled for a chuckle, which in itself, was rare indeed. Wrapping her hands around his plump body, she decided whether he could speak or not, he could definitely communicate well. After all, what better thing to do on a wintry afternoon than to take a nap, and she decided then and there that perhaps little people had their uses.

  * * * *

  The fragrant smell of gingerbread tickled Megan’s nose. With only days before Christmas, Mr. and Mrs. O’Grady were trying very hard to help the children celebrate the holiday. They had spent the morning carefully cutting out and decorating the cookies with little raisin buttons and eyes, little candy mouths and noses and colored sugar coatings.

  All four children stood anxiously waiting for Mrs. O’Grady to allow them a taste. Lucas stood on tiptoes, grabbed two gingerbread men in his chubby hands and took off, scrambling from the kitchen before Megan could catch him.

  “Lucas, shame on you, come back here!” Too late, he raced off down the hallway.

  All the children ran after him, their footsteps thundering through the halls.

  “Oh, no, he’s heading for old Miss Parks’ sitting room!”

  “Catch him, quick!”

  “That’s not fair—he got two gingerbread men!” That from Teddy, who would eat them out of house and home if Megan let him.

  The door at the end of the hall stood wide open, but everyone, including Mr. and Mrs. O’Grady slid to a halt, mouths dropping open and eyes widening at the sight before them.

  Lucas sat on Miss Parks’ lap, munching happily, sugar sprinkles all over his smiling face. But that wasn’t the top of it. Miss Parks had one arm wrapped around Lucas, holding him on her lap. And she was also munching on a gingerbread man. If anything, she had more cookie crumbs on her face than did Lucas.

  Mr. O’Grady couldn’t contain his laughter, and at the sound, Miss Parks and Lucas both looked at where the group stood, still wide-eyed and wondering.

  “Do you know the rhyme about what little boys and girls are made of?” Miss Parks asked, the cranky voice she usually used gone completely as she hugged Lucas tighter.

  Teddy moved closer to the chair on the opposite side of Lucas. He had forever been the one not wanting to be left out of things. And as usual, he was the first one to start jabbering.

  “No,” he said, shaking his head vigorously.

  “Well,” Miss Parks said, brushing her mouth with her hand, crumbs falling onto the pristine black of her dress. And she didn’t even seem to mind. Then, she hooked an arm around Teddy and pulled him closer.

  “Sugar and spice, and all things nice, that’s what little girls are made of,” she said with a smile, looking over at Annie, who hung back by Megan.

  “What about boys? What are little boys made of?” Lucas was the one to ask, his chubby hand patting Miss Parks softly on the chest.

  Megan could feel the tears running down her cheeks. It would seem that this Christmas, the nicest present of all came because of the most unusual circumstances. Who would have thought that Miss Parks would be the one to get Lucas to talk at last?

  “Little boys, Miss Parks,” Teddy repeated, leaning closer, apparently no longer afraid of their unusual aunt.

  “Ah, little boys,” Miss Parks nodded sagely. “Well, it seems that little boys are made of frogs and snails and puppy-dogs’ tails. That’s what little boys are made of.” And with a somewhat rusty chuckle, she tickled the boys until everyone was laughing, the joy of the sound echoing merrily throughout the sitting room.


  Megan realized this Christmas would turn out just right; perhaps because little Lucas had softened Matilda Parks’ heart toward them, or maybe because Miss Parks had broken through the barrier with Lucas. It mattered not. With her nonsense rhyme and hugs, Miss Parks somehow made it sound just as nice to be made from puppy-dogs’ tails as to be made from sugar and spice.

  And Matilda Parks was thinking what a wonderful sound a child’s laughter was. It brightened the room and filled her heart with love. She felt truly blessed to have these children as part of her life.

  Christmas Remembered

  LIGHTS

  It was after Thanksgiving, so the kids said we could put up the Christmas lights, but then they went home and didn’t stay to help.

  We found the box of lights on the bottom of everything because we had moved last summer and when we got them out, they were all tangled up and half of them didn’t even work.

  After buying new lights and a new ladder because ours was run over by the moving truck, we strung the lights along the house, around the shrubs, in the trees and down the driveway.

  Only to realize we needed five extension cords just to reach the closest outlet.

  It’s going to be a light stringing,

  Bell ringing,

  Rushing and bustling,

  Hectic holiday season.

  DECORATING

  We bought a tree and put it in just the right place, but the dog drank all the water out of the stand and the cat kept climbing up into the tree and knocking the ornaments off.

  On top of that, I couldn’t remember where I put the decorations I bought at last year’s after Christmas holiday sale.

  We put the rest of the ornaments on, but our grown-up daughter kept telling us not to put those on the tree.

  And I asked what was wrong with pipe cleaner candy canes, Popsicle stick sleds, glitter pinecones or tissue paper wreaths with their grade school pictures in the middle?

  It’s going to be a light stringing,

  Bell ringing,

  Tree trimming, always remembering,

  Rushing and bustling,

  Hectic holiday season.