A Season for Miracles

by Jean Little

  But then Master Flint said that I was right! He said that after his anger cooled, he thought about his dear granddaughter, who had died of a fever last year. She had always been fearless about speaking her mind, and he said I reminded him of her. Then he took the lid off the box and there lay his set of beautiful tools! Even I could see how special they were, and understand why Papa loved them so. The handles were of gleaming golden wood — maple wood, Master Flint said, the very best — and the ironwork was smooth and well-oiled.

  Papa took up a tool and balanced it lovingly in his hand. Then slowly he put it down. He told Master Flint that he still could not pay the price asked for them. Master Flint rubbed his chin, frowning. He said he would not lend them as I had asked, because he did not approve of lending. I was so disappointed — I thought that nothing had changed after all. But then he said a wonderful thing. He said Papa could buy them over time — for a penny a week! Even we can afford a penny a week. So they shook hands on it.

  I served Master Flint a cup of cider before he went. He winked at me and suddenly his eyes did not look hard at all. I looked down at his poor twisted hands and thought how sad he must feel to be unable to do the work he loved anymore. And how his granddaughter had died of fever just like Belle, and how he must miss her, especially at Christmastide. So I told him that my grandmother taught me how to make a wonderful ointment that helped rheumatism, and that I could bring him some if he liked. He said he would be “right glad” of it.

  And so this Christmas Day, my heart brims with joy. Papa will be able to do his best work now, and will not have to spend his time doing rough labour for lack of proper tools. So I ended up doing good, even though I went about it the wrong way. I am still not quite sure what le bon Dieu thinks about that, but I trust in Him. May He always watch over us all.

  Kate and her well-travelled family are stationed in Yale, British Columbia, while her father works as a supervisor on the Fraser Canyon section of the Canadian Pacific Railway.

  Stirring Up a Storm

  Saturday, November 24, 1883

  9:00 p.m.

  Today’s headline: Christmas Pudding Plummed!

  Plummed, not plummeted — although that might have been the case had I not had so many helpers — and I know “plummed” would never be used in a respectable newspaper since it is not a word in the first place. But at the moment I’m in a playful mood, and feeling very festive. Not only because the house smells like Christmas, but because it’s been snowing all day!

  This is my first entry in weeks, due to the burden of Chores and Responsibilities. The list is endless: helping Mama with the Christmas baking, cooking meals, cleaning, sweeping, washing the linens and looking after Mary so Mama can rest. Not to mention feeding Sheba and taking her for walks, going to school, doing homework and helping Mr. Hagan with the Sentinel — although that’s preparation for my future career, and certainly not a chore. Neither was making the plum pudding!

  Toby even offered to help. He is good at mental arithmetic and Mama always doubles the recipe amounts, so that was Toby’s job. We promised Mama we wouldn’t disturb her, and we’d keep an eye on Mary, who was sleeping in her cradle by the range.

  Promises made, we set to work. Setting out the ingredients was a chore in itself. Fortunately the hens are in a good laying mood — we needed sixteen eggs!

  Next we had to weigh out the ingredients, cut the raisins, wash and dry the currants and mince the suet. Toby sliced the candied peel while I grated the bread into fine crumbs.

  We were in the middle of cracking the eggs when Anne came by and offered to help. Good thing, because then we had to beat the eggs. Just as my arm was about to fall off, Rusty arrived! “Many hands make light work,” Mama always says, and it’s true. The hardest job was keeping our voices down!

  Then came the debate over the brandy. Mama had put the bottle on the counter, but she hadn’t left a wineglass. We needed “2 wineglassfuls” but what size? The choice was small or large, so we decided on large. Before I could stop him, Toby had added a third glass!

  We had a grand time mixing the batter and stirring in our Christmas wishes. I reminded everyone to stir from east to west because that is the way the three Wise Men were travelling when they first saw the star over Bethlehem.

  By this time Mary was awake and demanding attention. I picked her up, placed her fingers on the spoon and, guiding her hand, let her stir in a wish. She must have been pleased because she stopped crying and didn’t fuss when I put her back in the cradle.

  I was about to press the pudding into the mould when Toby burst out, “Charms!” Thank goodness he remembered!

  I ran off to the silverware drawer to fetch them, and we mixed them in with another round of wishes.

  I kept my wish a secret, even though Rusty kept urging me to tell, and Anne almost ruined my life by saying, “It’s written on her face, Rusty! See how she’s blushing!” (I couldn’t argue because it’s true.)

  After that, I pressed the pudding into the mould, tied it down with a cloth and set it on the range to boil for the next six hours.

  A job well done! We rewarded ourselves by licking out the bowl.

  Naturally the boys had “something to do” when it was time to wash and dry the dishes, but I cannot complain.

  In the afternoon a letter arrived from Andrew, saying that he’ll be leaving Victoria on December 22, and home on the 23rd. Hurray! By then it will have been four months since we’ve seen him!

  Thursday, November 29

  Heavy rains the last few days. The snow is disappearing from the mountains and the river is rising. If this keeps up, the stern-wheelers will have no problem running up and down the Fraser, and Grandma Forrest will not have to come by canoe!

  What will she be like? I can’t wait to meet her in person!

  Saturday, December 1

  Hell’s Gate and Soggy Trifle! I could spit railway spikes, I’m that out of sorts, but is there anyone around to listen or care? NO!!!!!

  Papa is miles up the Canyon, working on the bridge. Toby is off doing something with Rusty. Mama has time for no one but Mary, and Mary has been as out of sorts as her big sister. But Mary is allowed to scream!!!

  The worst of my troubles? My beautiful gold ring with the sparkly red stone — the one Grandma Forrest sent me from England before Mary was born, so I wouldn’t feel neglected with a new baby in the house — IT’S GONE!!

  It was Anne who first noticed. We were practising flirtatious looks on Monday when she suddenly said, “Where’s your ring? Did you lose it?”

  OHH! It shames me no end that she should have noticed before I did. I’ve searched everywhere — at home, at school, in the yard, everywhere — and if that’s not bad enough, Grandma Forrest will be here in two weeks and what will I tell her?

  Great Godfrey! Has a part of my brain ceased to function, now that I’m worn out with Chores and Responsibilities? How could I have lost it?

  My life is Wracked with Despair.

  Thursday, December 6

  Heavy rain, heavy fog, heavy heart.

  At least Papa will be home tomorrow.

  Friday, December 7

  One week before Grandma Forrest arrives, and I am to Watch My Manners. My first lesson was this morning.

  “You’re a young lady now, Kate,” says Mama. “No more slamming of doors and stomping your foot when you don’t get your own way.”

  Have I been doing that?

  “No more of your ill-mannered curses.”

  But “Hell’s Gate” isn’t a curse, it’s a real place.

  “No more of your talking back.”

  Being Mama, she says this in the nicest possible way, without a flutter of impatience or anger. If only I could be like her, a saint! Life would be so much easier.

  “No more bursting into tears at the dinner table. Grandma will think you’re suffering from hysterics.”

  Like last night? I couldn’t help it! As for hysterics, why shouldn’t I suffer, now that I’m burdened
with the womanly chores of housekeeping, cooking and baby-minding? Worst of all: “I’d rather you didn’t mention to Grandma that you want to be a newspaper reporter. It isn’t seemly for a young woman.”

  Hell’s Gate and Galoshes! Is there anything I can do to please Grandma Forrest? And where, oh where is my ring??

  Saturday, December 8

  Small Victory for Kate: Three Entries in a Row!

  Put on galoshes and mackinaw and took Sheba for a vigorous walk along the railway tracks. And since no one besides Sheba could hear me, I gave full voice to my out-of-sorts temper and RAILED — mostly in the tunnels, and mostly over Mama’s List of Manners. OHH! It felt good to behave in a hysterical, unladylike manner for once.

  By the time I got home I was a sorry sight, as drenched and muddy as Sheba, but it was worth the scolding.

  Sunday, December 9

  Papa left after Sunday dinner. He told me my ring would turn up as soon as I stopped looking for it. He meant well, but it did not cheer me up.

  Tuesday, December 11

  Mary is two months old today. Kate is two months short of sleep.

  Thursday, December 13

  A storm of activity has swept through our house. As soon as Toby and I got home from school, Mama put us to work preparing for Grandma Forrest’s arrival. Out came the boxes of Christmas decorations, up went the garlands. Toby started putting up the cedar boughs we’d cut yesterday, while I arranged the nativity scene on the mantle.

  After supper I helped Mama with more Christmas baking, then made some pomanders by sticking cloves into oranges. I hung three in my bedroom.

  I was about to start my homework when a horse and wagon pulled up outside our house. Rusty! His mother is lending us a cot, since I’m going to let Grandma have my bed. Rusty set it up for me, and said my bedroom smelled just like Christmas.

  He brought us some bad news. A big slide east of here wrecked a part of the railway line and blocked the wagon road with tons of rock. It happened this morning, and won’t be cleared for another few days. So Papa won’t be home tomorrow.

  Mary was quiet as a lamb all evening.

  Friday, December 14

  In the space of an afternoon, Grandma Forrest has arrived, settled in and taken over. At least I have freedom from some of my chores and time to write in my diary. Mama had asked Toby and me to meet the boat, so the minute we heard the whistle we left school and ran down to the landing. Grandma Forrest was the only woman on the boat we didn’t recognize, and she was the first to get off. She marched onto shore like a general — quite comical really, since she is short and rather dumpy — but the stern expression on her face dared anyone to get in her way.

  No wonder Mama was worried about my manners! One look at my imperious grandmother and my knees started to shake.

  She greeted us warmly, thank goodness. “Dear Kathleen! My dear Tobias! Just look at you!” she cried, then flung out her arms and crushed us against her enormous bosom. Toby was mortified.

  I asked if she had enjoyed the trip. No, she said bluntly, she had never been so cold, so uncomfortable or so nauseous. As for the food …

  She grumbled all the way to our house, pausing only to ask us a question. But no sooner did we start to answer than she cut us short and launched onto another complaint.

  By the time we got home we were exhausted, and eager to get back to school.

  Saturday, December 15

  Great Godfrey! Is there no end of complaints? I know Grandma Forrest has had a long and tiring trip, but why must she find fault with everything?

  It was bad enough yesterday, the way she called Yale “a dismal little town” and Victoria “a quaint colonial capital.” Not to mention the way she rearranged Mama’s kitchen.

  As for poor Sheba! Grandma Forrest doesn’t care for dogs, so Sheba must stay outside at all times.

  “Not on Christmas!” I protested.

  “Bosh, dear girl!” Grandma Forrest snorted. “A dog doesn’t give a toss about Christmas!”

  And this morning! She told me that my bedroom is too small and draughty, the bed is too lumpy, and the scent of orange and cloves is “far too cloying.” What’s more, she lay awake all night, afraid that a spiked orange ball would fall from the ceiling and bash her in the head. So would I be a dear and remove them?

  OHHH! Must go for a walk, get into a tunnel and RAIL!

  At least Grandma hasn’t asked about my ring.

  Sunday, December 16

  Church this morning, and of course the sermon was “too long” and “too incomprehensible.” For the first time Grandma and I agreed on something.

  She said the choir wasn’t bad, considering we’re in the wilderness.

  Wednesday, December 19

  Ever since Monday, Grandma has been firing questions at Toby and me “to prepare us” for the public examinations tomorrow. With me fumbling at mental arithmetic and Toby fumbling at everything else, she must have a low opinion of our intelligence. But for once, she has kept it to herself.

  Mama joins us for our grilling sessions, once Mary is asleep. Sometimes, when she sees that a question has us stumped, she mouths the correct answer when Grandma isn’t looking.

  It’s interesting to see how Mama reacts with her mother. I feel guilty saying this, but Grandma is not the most agreeable person to be around. She is bossy and opinionated — but Mama appears to enjoy it! “Go and have a rest, child!” orders Grandma. This, to my mother! And Mama obeys! While Grandma scrubs the floor, washes Mary’s nappies and has supper on the table in the space of two hours!

  She still hasn’t mentioned my ring. Maybe she’s forgotten she sent it.

  Thursday, December 20

  Public examination at school. I was more terrified than usual, with Grandma Forrest sitting there in judgment. We were able to answer the examiner’s questions correctly, though Grandma thought they were too easy. “You need to be challenged!” she says.

  I won a prize in reading, and almost keeled over when Grandma said, “Well done, Kathleen!”

  Tomorrow is our Christmas tea. Anne and I are helping with the decorations after school. Rusty is, too.

  Friday, December 21

  It’s way past my bedtime but I don’t feel tired. I feel exhilarated and happy to the core! Why? Because tonight —

  No, I will not write it yet. All in good time! Though I pray Grandma will not wake up and disturb me. At least my bedroom lamp isn’t smoking.

  First of all, our Christmas tea was wonderful. An enormous tree stood in one corner, lit up with wax candles and Chinese lanterns. It looked like a forest in fairyland, the way the light shone against the dark green fir. And its boughs were laden with small gifts, each one with a name attached.

  Rusty’s parents had picked up Mama, Grandma and Mary and taken them to the school in their carriage. I was afraid Mary might wail during the program, but she was as good as gold. Some of our friends and neighbours hadn’t seen her for a while, so there was a great deal of oohing and aahing.

  After the tea was served, the program began. Our school choir was first, and in the middle of singing “Joy to the World” I saw Papa coming in! There were a few more carols, some recitations and then more singing.

  Near the end of “Silent Night” an alarm clock went off. The ringing was so loud and unexpected that everyone in the choir jumped! Turns out that the clock was hidden in the Christmas tree and set for 9:00. No one knows who did it. One of the older boys, for a joke? Or Mr. Irwin, to ensure we got home at a reasonable hour? That would be just like our teacher, even though it wasn’t a school night.

  After the presents were handed out, we sang “God Save the Queen,” then everyone wished each other a Merry Christmas and went home.

  Now for the best part. Rusty had come into town on his horse and wagon, and offered to give me a ride home. When we got to my house, he leapt down from the seat and reached out a hand to help me. Such gallantry! I tried to land in a ladylike fashion, but lost my balance and stumbled. Then eve
rything happened so fast — his arms out to catch me, my nose bumping against his chin, and quick as a whisper, a kiss! My first kiss!

  Hysterical and delirious, that’s how I feel, but in a deliciously good way. Will anyone notice? I cannot stop smiling!

  Later

  Grandma Forrest said she loved our Christmas tea. Except that the room was too hot and crowded, the tea lukewarm, the fruitcake stale, and the singing rather flat. NOT TRUE!

  Why is it that when people get old they’re allowed to say whatever they want, no matter how rude or hurtful?

  Secret Thought: Maybe Mama had more than one good reason for marrying Papa and moving to Canada.

  Another thing. Grandma said she’d like to give the Alarm Clock Culprit a piece of her mind. Spoiling a beautiful carol, perfectly sung (though flat) …

  I won’t tell her it was her own “dear Tobias.” And I won’t tell Toby that Rusty told me. It’s our first secret. Apart from the kiss.

  Saturday, December 22

  The first day of Christmas holidays, and one day after my first kiss. I was planning to call on Anne — so much to tell her! — when Grandma Forrest announced, “Time for some air, Kathleen. You must give me a tour of the town.”

  What could I say? Remembering my manners (unlike some people), I graciously said I’d be delighted.

  It didn’t take long before she’d seen enough of the town. But she wasn’t ready to go home. No, she had “a yearning to set off along the tracks, deep into the wilderness.”

  I tried to dissuade her. There could be bears, panthers and coyotes!

  She gave a loud snort. “Piffle!” She said that any fool knows that bears go into hibernation, and “if we run across a panther or coyote you’ll know what to do.”