Christmas at Grey Sage

by Phyllis Clark Nichols

  Silas took center stage again. “Oh, we remember, Beatrice, the sweet gifts you gave us and how you returned to us for Christmas. We wouldn’t forget, and we wouldn’t forget this one more gift.” He pulled a small gift-wrapped box from the pocket of his sweater and asked Lily to step forward. “Lily, I have something very special for you. I hid it once and returned it. We used it to keep the wolves at bay, and now that you’ve announced you’re leaving tomorrow, I’m giving it back.”

  Lily unwrapped the gold-foiled box and removed her sterling silver whistle on its sterling silver chain. She unfolded the handwritten note inside and read it aloud for all to hear. “Lily, we welcome you back to Grey Sage anytime, whistle and all, especially if your Unlikely Christmas Party on Wheels will come with you. We have enjoyed each and every one of you. Remember your nights here are our gift to you. Thank you for making our Christmas one we’ll never forget—a Christmas when an unexpected storm made friends of strangers and truly brought Christmas back to Grey Sage. Merry Christmas, Silas and Maude.”

  Maude woke early the next morning. “Silas . . . Silas, I know you’re awake. I can tell by your breathing. We must get up. There’s much to do this morning. The roads are cleared and our guests are leaving. I know Lita’s already up and making a fabulous last breakfast.”

  “Maude, do you ever think how often you wake me with instructions about getting up?”

  “Not so much.”

  “Well, you do. And one of these mornings, I’m just not going to listen to you. But it’s not this morning.” He rolled to his side and climbed out of the warm bed.

  In short order, they were dressed and headed for the kitchen.

  Only minutes passed before the guests began stirring. Some were busy bringing their luggage and other bags to the front door, and others were enjoying the last morning in front of the fire when Maude entered the room and gently rang the bell. “It’s breakfast. Your last morning at Grey Sage.”

  When they were gathered around the table, Kent voiced the question on everyone’s mind: “What’s for breakfast, Miss Lita? It’s not that I care, because I know it’ll be good. I’m just dying to know, and I like how you say it.”

  Lita stood behind him at the table and squeezed his shoulders one more time. “This morning, you’re having an open-faced bacon-and-tomato sandwich served on toasted sour dough bread. The tomatoes have been roasted, and the bacon has been covered in maple syrup and baked to a perfect crispiness. And it’s topped with a fried egg. Then you’ll find a green chili-avocado sauce on the side and a bowl of citrus fruit this morning. For those of you wanting lighter fare, I have baked oatmeal with fresh, stewed apples. I don’t want anyone leaving hungry. But in case you’re still hungry after breakfast, I have to-go bags with cookies. You can thank Laura for all that goodness.”

  Kevin twirled his napkin above his head. “No secret ingredient this morning?”

  “Young man, there’s always a secret ingredient around here. Check out the green chili-avocado sauce.”

  “I’ll be back in April to put the apron on, and I’m not leaving without the secret ingredient.”

  Bea stood up from the table. “Breakfast was wonderful. Now let’s go. I must see my family.”

  Maude and Silas had been sitting quietly at the end of the table, enjoying the morning’s conversation. Maude responded. “Bea, I really do hate to see you go. You’ve been nothing short of delightful.”

  “Yes, I know. But please tell me we’re not going to have to do that ritual thing again with the paint on our hands this morning. Are we?” She rolled her tiny blue eyes. “If we do, I’m taking my shoes off to put my footprint on your wall. It’s much more famous than my hand.”

  The members of the Unlikely Christmas Party all laughed, but Silas laughed the loudest.

  Maude spoke. “No ritual this morning, Bea, unless you’d like to leave your footprint. But I must say again, each one of you has made a wonderful impression on us, and we are grateful that you brought to us a most unforgettable Christmas. What do you say we do it again next year?”

  Everyone clapped as they rose from the table. Lily moved next to Maude and pulled out her whistle. “Don’t make me do this, people. But I will and I can. We’re leaving in ten minutes. I think Gordy and Alo have already loaded the van.”

  In less than ten minutes, Maude, Silas, Lita, and Alo stood at the door bidding farewell and safe travel to each member of the Unlikely Christmas Party. They lingered to wave as Gordy drove the Party down the snow-lined lane. They were about to close the door when Maude heard the horn and noticed the brake lights. “Wait, they’re stopping. Maybe someone forgot something.”

  They stood, watching and waiting.

  Then Lily appeared, hanging out of the side door of the van. She blew the whistle as loud as she could and yelled, “If I don’t see you before then, we’ll all be back next Christmas. You can count on it.”

  When Maude and Silas returned their Christmas decorations to the storage closet in 1982, they had no idea there would be no Christmas at Grey Sage for twenty-three years. But Christmas returned when Lily arrived with her Unlikely Christmas Party on Wheels in 2005.

  And when those unexpected Christmas guests sat around the fire in the gathering room during that holiday, no one regretted being stranded by a snowstorm or thought that a new Christmas tradition might be beginning. Or perhaps that this Christmas was the rebirth of some treasured old traditions.

  For the next several years, Lily brought her entourage, as Silas called it, to the Grey Sage Inn—folks who had no family or nowhere to go or who didn’t want to be alone for Christmas. The returning guests always seemed to remember their seats at the dining table and their favorite chairs in the gathering room. And they always requested their same suites. Even though some of the guests returned year after year to the Christmas traditions, there were always a few new ones who showed up for reasons of their own.

  Lily led the group for the next ten years. Each time, she’d show up in her shaggy Mongolian lamb vest, always with her whistle around her neck. Lita continued threatening to set Lily’s hair on fire every year, but she never followed through.

  When Lily’s health no longer allowed her to travel, Maude began a new tradition of visiting her in Chicago. On one such trip, Lily sent a small, gift-wrapped box back to Grey Sage for Alo. It was her silver whistle with a note that read, “This whistle is to keep the wolves away. I’m counting on you to keep my friends, Maude and Silas, safe. Always, Lily.”

  Beatrice Caldwell and Colonel Henry Walton attended the Grey Sage Christmas gatherings for several more years until, after serving as Bea’s escort as faithfully as he’d served his country, the colonel died in 2009. He was given a hero’s burial in Arlington Cemetery. Captain Kent Martin, dressed in his army best, attended the burial ceremony.

  After the colonel passed away, Beatrice went to live with her daughter. Bea’s changing realities made it unsafe for her to live alone, but there were some constants in her life: her delight in being alive and her love of dance and chocolate. And she never lost her ability to captivate an audience.

  Ted and Laura Sutton never missed a Christmas at Grey Sage, and they always headed to Canyon Road to purchase a whimsical piece of art to go in the new gardens Laura designed for the estate—gardens that included beds of fresh herbs for her newly found passion. Laura resigned from her position of teaching music theory at the university and enrolled in culinary school. She spent a year planning and remodeling her kitchen in the historic Sutton mansion and enjoyed entertaining Ted’s colleagues and baking birthday cakes for friends and neighborhood children. Ted continued teaching and spending time in his lab in the basement while Laura concocted recipes just above his head.

  Maude was right when she told Laura she could start a business making gingerbread houses, but Laura was content to bake. She gave much of her time to volunteering at several neighborhood schools. When her vegetable and herb garden was established, she invited classes for field
trips to their home to see the gardens and enjoy the kinetic art.

  Laura shared her new recipes with Lita every Christmas as they spent time in the kitchen together, preparing sumptuous meals for Grey Sage’s guests. And on Christmas morning, there was always a newly designed gingerbread house under the same piece of green velvet on the oak breakfront in the dining room. And of course, there was always Lita’s Cold Christmas Cake for Christmas dinner.

  Greg and Iris Martin returned to their home in the Chicago suburbs, where Iris hung her stained-glass iris in her kitchen window and Greg displayed his cactus on his desk in his office. As Greg had predicted, the piece of art initiated many a conversation, including an occasional homily on the hidden meanings found in the prickly plant. Every Christmas, they brought home enough cactus-pear jelly to last until their next visit, which was often a couple of times during the year.

  Reba returned to her therapy practice, wearing her dragonfly ring to remind her that every day was a new beginning, a resurrection of sorts. She continued to enjoy taking art classes with Lily, and she used what she learned with her clients. On occasion, she was known to let her hair down. She would often accompany Greg and Iris for midyear visits back to New Mexico.

  And Emily and Kent? Now that was a love story. When they returned to Chicago, Kent made the weekly drive to visit Emily a hundred miles away, always encouraging her to finish her children’s book. They returned to Grey Sage in late April of 2006 to fulfill his Christmas present to her. Emily spent her days in the studio, studying with Maude and working on the illustrations for her book. Kent, continuing his therapy for a couple of hours every morning, was regaining the use of his left arm. That made him happy because he could cook alongside Lita in the kitchen while Emily was in the studio.

  On the Friday afternoon of that week in April, late in the day, Kent persuaded Emily to take a walk down to the bridge. The snow had long since melted, and the trees along the creek bank were every shade of green. Water cascaded over smooth stones. He embraced her with both arms, just as he had told her he would when they ventured to the bridge that snowy afternoon in December. And after he kissed her, he bent down on one knee, pulled a ring from his pocket, and asked her to marry him.

  They were wed in a ceremony on that same bridge on a Saturday evening in August, under a trellis covered in moonflowers—Kent’s surprise for Emily. The entire Unlikely Christmas Party, along with other close family and friends, filled Grey Sage in celebration. And when they left for their honeymoon, Kent carried a jar of Lita’s secret ingredient.

  Kent and Emily found time every year to drive up to Grey Sage, and Christmas there became their tradition, even after the birth of their daughter three years later. Emily unpacked her cedar chest to find the gown her mother had purchased for her first Christmas nearly thirty years ago, and brought the gown with them to the inn.

  Kent continued his military career, and Emily became a full-time mom and a writer of children’s books. For years, Emily retrieved their mail from her sunflower mailbox.

  The Klingmans continued to be good neighbors, checking in on Maude and Silas and Alo and Lita almost daily. Daniel and Jedediah built a special table in the barn for Daniel’s electric train. He frequently invited Silas over to see the newest addition. When Silas felt Daniel was old enough to know, Silas told him the story of his own love for trains, and how he had given this train to his own son, Elan, on his sixth Christmas.

  The time came when Maude and Silas and Alo and Lita made arrangements for the continued running of Grey Sage. Alo and Lita’s daughter Catori accepted their invitation to run the inn. Alo oversaw the construction of another adobe casita on the property, where Catori and her husband and two boys would live.

  Through the years, many strangers passed through the halls and portales of Grey Sage—artists, writers, travelers looking for a cup of coffee, and others who needed an open door to the real comfort and friendship they found at Grey Sage.

  But Christmas was predictably more than special. The fireplaces were always ablaze, the table always full, and candles were always lit in every window. Music and stories and laughter echoed through the halls. Maude was right on that snowy Christmas Eve in 2005 when she told Silas, “Christmas is the time when strangers become friends.”

  Ingredients:

  1 pound box vanilla wafers or graham crackers

  1 cup pecans (or walnuts), chopped

  1 cup walnuts (or pecans), chopped

  2 cups shredded moist coconut

  1 pound raisins

  1 regular can sweetened condensed milk

  Candied cherries, optional

  Whipped cream

  Directions:

  Crush the vanilla wafers or graham crackers in a food processor.

  Chop the nuts or grind in a food processor. If you prefer, you may use 2 cups of chopped pecans or 2 cups of walnuts rather than 1 cup of each.

  Combine the cookie crumbs with the chopped nuts, coconut, and raisins, mixing well.

  Pour in sweetened condensed milk and work through with hands so that dry ingredients are thoroughly saturated.

  Press the mixture tightly into a spring-form pan.

  If desired, you may use candied cherries to decorate the top. (I like to cut red cherries into shapes of poinsettia petals and used chopped green cherries for leaves.)

  Refrigerate for two days before slicing and serving with a dollop of whipped cream.

  Ingredients:

  2 cups all-purpose flour

  1 tablespoon baking powder

  1 teaspoon kosher salt

  1 cup steaming tap water

  Vegetable oil for frying

  Directions:

  Mix dry ingredients well.

  Add water and stir until a dough forms.

  Grease your hands and shape the dough into a mound.

  Cover the dough with a towel and allow it to rest in a warm place for thirty minutes.

  Pour about 1 inch of oil into a pan and heat on medium-high. Test by dropping a dusting of flour into the oil to see if it sizzles. The oil should be hot so the bread is not soggy or greasy.

  Spoon a ping-pong-sized ball of dough into your greased hands and flatten it like a cookie. They should be between four and five inches across. Poke a small hole in the center like a donut.

  Place the dough in the hot oil and allow it to brown on one side before turning (approximately two to three minutes per side).

  Drain on paper towels before serving.

  Note: I like to dust powdered sugar on these for dessert with a bowl of my favorite ice cream. My husband loves them with butter and honey, like sopapillas. And they’re especially good with a piping hot bowl of homemade vegetable soup or chili.

  I want to thank you, the reader, for taking a few hours of your time to visit Grey Sage. It is only when you read it scene by scene that the story comes to life—when characters’ voices can be heard, when icy winds can be felt, when warm cider can be smelled, and when what you read makes you feel, or remember or think about something differently. So, I thank you for allowing this story and these characters to live with you for a while.

  Without a few good friends who shared an unforgettable experience, there would be no Christmas at Grey Sage. The idea for this book was born the night when a sudden and most unusual thunderstorm stranded our traveling group at an inn in downtown Santa Fe. That storm dazzled us with spectacular lightning, made us jumpy with its thunderclaps, and created an evening to remember. Downtown dinner plans and all electricity were washed away with the floodwaters, and we found ourselves making do in the darkness and sharing what we had with strangers who quickly became friends. You, my traveling companions, could not have known as we all sat around the roaring fire, sharing stories and laughing with abandon, that I was studying faces, listening intently, and storing memories. You know who you are, and I thank you for an incredible evening.

  Maybe your life experiences have taught you that Christmas can be a tender time for some, especially those
who are away from people they love at Christmas. I am deeply indebted to two very special and unusual men who served our country on the battlefield and spent Christmases away from their families. Their Christmastime experiences in a war were six decades apart. How their wars were fought was different, but the hearts of the soldiers were the same. Charles Walker, I am so proud to call you my friend. Thank you for reliving your World War Two experiences while telling them to me in amazing detail and then for allowing me to chronicle them in this book. You are at the top of my list of heroes. And, Dr. Andy Muck, you are nothing short of remarkable. Together, we’ve served the least of these in Guatemala. Serving alongside you was a joy and an inspiration. Thank you for sharing your experiences in Iraq as a doctor taking care of the most critically wounded and for allowing me to use your most poignantly penned memory of losing a child-patient on the battlefield. Thank you for how you live your life, relieving suffering, calming the frightened, and teaching young doctors in the field of emergency medicine.

  I am so grateful for the highly professional and yet truly kind team at Gilead Publishing. Dan Balow, you understand in this “universe of word matter” that words really do matter. I am grateful you love a good story and that you would allow me to tell this story. Becky Philpott, you are omniscient and omnipresent when it comes to publishing a book. Jordan Smith, you live in a world of technology and social media, and you navigate it with such ease. Thank you for being so patient with this Luddite and for bringing me along. And Kristen Gearhart, you’re a fantastic hand-holder and spinner of so many plates. You all are top in your class of professionals, and yet you’re always personal and kind, made so by our Father’s Spirit who lives in you. Then there is Leslie Peterson whose editorial work helped me deliver this book to you. It is a better book because of you, Leslie. Thank you.