by Danni Roan
She lifted a silent prayer for Mr. Dixon and hoped that someday his heart might soften enough to understand and enjoy the true promise this time of year brought.
The afternoon meal was noisy and delicious as men, women, and children settled in the large kitchen and dining area of the boarding house. Polly Esther had done it again, whipping up a new soup that no one had had before. This year’s fare had corn and potatoes in a rich white sauce, with large chunks of crispy bacon swimming in between.
“What story will you tell this year, Ms. Polly?” someone called down the long table.
“Oh, I’ve got a new story to tell,” the old woman said, smiling mysteriously. “You’ll just have to listen close and see what it is.” The assembled people laughed good naturedly, wondering if the tale would be an old favorite or a new, made-up story. Outside, some of the older boys yelled and laughed in the middle of a snowball fight.
***
As evening fell, families began to hustle toward the little church on the hill, their soft, excited voices drifting through the falling dusk. Earlier, women had bustled their jolly families home to change into their best and get their children washed and ready for the big event.
One by one, the families and residents of Biders Clump found their way to a seat or sent their children into one of the rooms that flanked the pulpit, in preparation for the play.
Sara peeked out at the assembled masses through a crack in the door. She and her sisters had changed into their festive wear earlier, and she self-consciously smoothed the silk of her pale blue taffeta. It was her favorite dress, off-setting her hair and somehow muting its reddish hue.
Quickly she scanned the seats, trying to spot Rafe, but she couldn’t see him anywhere and her heart fell a little. She’d hoped he’d make it, but couldn’t fault him if his father insisted he stay at home on Christmas Eve.
“Sara, Sara,” Prissy called in a harsh whisper. “Get the children ready. It’s almost time.”
The last strands of Oh Holy Night could be heard drifting from the front of the church as Sara closed the door, pushed up the lace trim of her sleeves, and adjusted the head wrap of the nearest shepherd.
“Are you ready?” she asked. The little boy ginned at her, nodding as he lifted his shepherd’s crook determinedly.
***
"Come on, boy,” Rafe called, leaning over his horse's neck as he pushed his hat down tight, sending Chester into a full gallop over the open snow. He’d been kept late over dinner with his father, who seemed grumpier than ever, and thought he’d never get away.
“Oh, go on then,” his father had finally shouted at him. “Go in ta town and watch them silly children prance around on stage.”
Chester flew over the snow, kicking up great clods of white powder, his black-streaked white mane and tail streaming out behind him, as he rider urged him on. The big Appaloosa lowered his head and pounded the frozen ground, zig-zagging around trees and sliding to a stop by the little church as a donkey ascended the front stairs carrying a girl draped in blue.
Rafe raced up the stairs and pulled the double doors wide to allow a falsely-bearded Joseph to proceed.
“Thanks, Mister,” the boy of about ten said, pulling his beard down to reveal a crooked smile.
Pastor Dalton rose to stand next to the little tree in the soft light of a large candle holder and quietly intoned as the donkey made it's stately way forward between the pews:
“And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be taxed. (And this taxing was first made when Cyrenius was governor of Syria.)
And all went to be taxed, every one into his own city.
And Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judaea, unto the city of David, which is called Bethlehem; (because he was of the house and lineage of David:)
To be taxed with Mary his espoused wife, being great with child.”
Rafe ducked into the back of the crowded church, closing the doors behind him, and watched as the boy led the donkey forward, stopping every few feet to ask one of the men a question, but each time the townfolks shook their heads and sent him on down the aisle.
Rafe smiled at the symbolism indicating that there was no room in the inn that night. The boy moved along until he reached the church dais, the little donkey calmly walking along, bearing his burden as if in some royal procession.
At the front of the church, they came to a halt and the boy tried to help the girl down, but she smacked his hand away and jumped down, making the pillow stuffed in her dress pop loose and the assembled chuckle.
Byron, the old hostler, took the lead of the placid donkey and led him away, out the side door as the boy and girl, whose pillow was once more secure, stepped up to the waiting hay bales.
“And so it was, that, while they were there,” Pastor Dalton continued, “the days were accomplished that she should be delivered.” Pastor spoke, a merry lilt in his voice, as he straightened his coat and looked seriously around at his flock. His eyes sparkled as from a manger placed before them, the very young Mary lifted a rag doll.
“And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn.”
“And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night.”
Sara heard the pastor’s words and hustled some of the older boys, dressed as shepherds, out the door and up onto the stage. Several of the younger children dressed in fluffy white followed along on all fours, bleating softly.
“Where’s Billy?” one of the Stanley boys asked, looking about him as the sheep climbed onto the stage, arranging themselves around Mary, Joseph and the baby Jesus.
“Billy,” Sara called, in a hushed whisper, “go with the others.” She gestured with her arm, drawing the little boy of about three to the front.
Billy grinning widely and dashed through the door, leaping onto the stage. “I’m a sheep!” he shouted, arms pawing the air as he continued to bounce and hop at the foot of the stable, causing the whole congregation to roar with peals of laughter.
Pastor Dalton pulled a large red handkerchief from his breast pocket and dabbed at his eyes, but doubled over once more as Billy’s brother, the lead shepherd, snagged the little boy around the middle with his crook and pulled him into line, grasping his hand firmly and shaking his head.
“I’m a sheep,” Billy whispered excitedly, tipping his head back and smiling at his older brother.
Pastor waved his hands for quiet, still dabbing at his eyes, and the congregation settled down.
Rafe leaned against the door post, watching for another glimpse of Sara as she ushered in the next band of children out onto the stage while he listened to his preachers soft voice.
And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid.
And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.
For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.
And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying,
Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.
The pastor’s voice was now soft and reverent as girls dressed in white ascended both sides of the stage, humming softly as the strains of Away in A Manger drifted into the quiet church.
As one, the congregation stood and began to sing while a sense of peace permeated the little building on the hill.
The singing was soon preceded by three wise men walking down the aisle, bearing gifts for the baby Jesus.
“Still wish we had a real camel,” one young man could be heard to whisper loudly to another as they moved al
ong. “It’d be all authentic then,” he grumbled, drawing smiles from family and friends gathered.
In only moments, the whole production was over and the townsfolks stood to their feet, applauding the children’s work. In a thunder of racing feet, the actors departed to the Sunday School rooms to change and prepare for the next part of the service.
Sara could hear the singing outside her little room as she straightened the costumes and helped the children disrobe. She could hardly wait to hear what Polly Esther had in store for them tonight. The old storyteller never left anyone disappointed, and her tales often contained a thread of truth or moral that followed you for a long time.
The music was coming to an end and as the children made their way to their parents. Sara slipped out the door and headed for the front pew. At the back of the church she spotted Rafe and her smile outshone the brightest light in the hall.
An old, dark, wood rocking chair was carried out onto to the stage and the lights in the main area dimmed as Polly Esther Olson stepped up, holding her deep purple skirt in her hand, and settled into the chair.
Chapter 9
On silent feet the little ones of Biders Clump walked out onto the stage and settled around Ms. Polly. A little girl of about two placed one knee on the rocker seat and hoisted herself up onto the old woman's lap, snuggling in close as she placed a thumb in her mouth.
Polly pulled the little mite to her side and closed her stark blue eyes.
"Two households, both alike in dignity, In fair Verona, where we lay our scene, From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean." Polly Esther's voice was soft and rhythmic as she spoke, pushing her chair into motion with the tip of her toe.
A little boy tugged on Polly Esther's skirt, making her open her eyes and look down at him where he sat cross legged on the floor. "Ms. Polly, I don't know what yer sayin'," he said, his wide, innocent eyes fixed on her face.
The white-haired woman reached out a hand and stroked his head. "Let me start again, then," she said with a smile.
"Once upon a time..." She looked at the little boy who smiled, "there were two families, both looked up to pretty much all over town. They was good people who loved their children and wanted the best for them." She paused, looking around the room to see that all were listening.
"They only had one problem," she said, her dark blue eyes bright with wisdom, "they couldn't stand each other."
At her feet the children looked at each other, nodding.
"One fella had a daughter who was kind, and smart and pretty. All he wanted was for her to grow up and be happy. He even had a plan for her to marry someone important that would treat her well and give her all the nice things she could ever want."
Around the congregation men hummed their approval at such a responsible father.
"It was getting' on to Christmas and folks around the town was having parties and making pies and cakes to celebrate." Polly's voice was like a sigh of silk in the quiet church. "This here pa, he decided to have a party and invited all the people from the town, doin' it up right. The only people who weren't invited was the family he'd been fuedin' with for many a year."
She smiled, as if this was the most normal thing in the world. "But the son of the other fella what didn't like this girl's pa, he snuck into the party anyway." Here she winked at the bright, mischievous smiles on the boys faces. "He wanted to see what all the fuss was about, so he and a couple of friends went to the party."
The storyteller leaned back in her chair, setting it in motion again as the little girl yawned widely, resting her head against Polly's ample bosom.
"There was all kinds of food at the party and this young fella moved around, picking out the nicest things to eat. Pickles, and hog's trotters, and souse."
"Ewww!" Several of the children grumbled, their faces twisted in disgust.
"Oh, well then, cakes, and cookies, and pies," Polly amended with a grin. "He liked them pretty good, too. He'd just fetch himself a cup of punch when out onto the open floor of the big house walked the prettiest girl he had ever seen. She was so pretty he completely forgot about all that nice food, 'cause he had to meet her."
The boys surrounding her shook their heads in wonder, but the women of the congregation sighed.
"Now this boy went right up to her and introduced himself, and to put it plain, she pretty much was smitten with him right away. That night they spent time together visitin' and plumb fell in love." Polly looked around the room, judging her audience.
"About midnight, when the stars were bright and the moon shone like a polished penny in the sky, the girl's Pa spotted the couple and had a fit, throwin' the boy out and telling his daughter that she was forbid to see him again."
"That ain't very nice,” a little girl in brown braids spoke up. “Pa's aren't 'sposed to be rude."
"No, they aren't darlin', but sometimes they can't see past their own hurts," Polly agreed, "and this one was sure spiteful to that boy's family. His daughter was all broke up over the whole thing too, but her pa was convinced he was lookin' out for his little girl."
"But if ya love someone, you gotta marry them," another boy of about six spoke up, grinning at the little girl with braids. "That's what grown-ups do."
The older members of Biders Clump smiled at the boy's sweet words, as many hands were joined in remembrance of early romances.
"Now that little girl was a smart one, so she got a friend to carry a note to her beau, deciding they'd run away together. The young man thought about it and agreed to meet her under a tall pine tree at the edge of the forest. He sure did like her a heap, ya see."
The little girl on Polly's lap had fallen asleep with the soft easy motion of the rocking chair, but the other children leaned in to listen to the rest of the tale.
"They met up under that tree and that young fella took the girls hands in his, smiling down at her with sad eyes. 'Should we really run away together?' he asked, wanting nothing more than to spend forever with her. 'I know that my Pa will never let me see you again if we don't.' The girl replied, 'I just want to be with you always.' Her eyes were sad, thinking of leaving her family, but willing to go." Polly Esther's voice was hushed.
"That boy kissed the girl's hands all sweet like, but then did something he didn't think he had the strength ta do. 'Sweet-heart,' he whispered, 'we could run away together and I'm sure we'd be happy because we love each other, but if we go, there ain't no comin' back and your pa and my family will sure be sad.' His eyes held sorrow as he said it, but he knew in his heart he was sayin' the right thing. 'I think that instead of runnin' away from our trouble, we should bide our time here and see if we can help our folks heal up whatever wounds they share.' The girl looked at him, her eyes full of tears, but her heart all filled up with love for him."
The little girl with the brown braids leaned over and kissed the young boy who'd spoken earlier on the cheek, making him squirm. "Eww," he said, wiping his cheek, but flushing at the same time.
"And that's just what that there girl did, too," Polly said brightly. "She leaned in and kissed her fella and said that she was able to wait if he was, and that someday she knew they would all be one big happy family."
Polly's eyes fell on Sara sitting in the front row, her shoulders slumped as the story struck deep.
"And did they?" one of the children asked, "did they all get along after that?"
"Well it took awhile, but them youngin's knew that their love would last a life time, so they put their own wishes aside and focused on fixin' things up in their town. Ya see, love will always find a way and these two, they did. Until one day their pa's shook hands and had a big wedding that made the whole town happy."
Polly shifted the sleeping child on her lap and leaned forward. "That's why it's important that we follow our hearts, but listen to our Ma's and Pa's even when they're on'y bein' stubborn. If we share our love with others, it will always come back to us ten times better and stronger than when we gave it away.
" She touched a little boy on the nose and smiled. "Now I think we have cake, cookies and punch over at the boarding house," she said, "so let’s go celebrate."
A young mother walked to the stage, taking the sleeping babe from Polly's arms as the other children scrambled for the exit, chattering cheerfully.
At the back of the church Rafe Dixon studied Sara where she sat on the front pew. He could see the soft curve of her cheek and wondered what she was thinking. As if she could feel his eyes on her, she turned and smiled sweetly, then slipped away into the room at the back of the church.
***
The atmosphere at the boarding house was bright and festive as people chatted and laughed over the shenanigans of the children during the play or sighed over the tale of star-crossed lovers that Polly had shared.
Pastor Dalton was asked to say a short blessing and then everyone grabbed a plate and moved along the tables that had been set up earlier, groaning under the astounding array of delights. There was hot chocolate for the children and coffee or cider for the adults.
Cakes, cookies, pies and all kinds of treats had been laid out to share, and neighbors nibbled special confections they only had once a year as they caught up on the gossip around town.
Rafe fixed a plate, then leaned against the far wall of the parlor near a little tree decked in hand-made decorations as some of the older men began to warm up their instruments. With a smile, he nibbled a piece of rich chocolate cake covered in thick, creamy fudge. He would have bet his spotted pony that Sara had made the treat.
Across the room, he saw the object of his affection helping children with their plates, a bright smile in her pretty green eyes. He wished he could simply walk over and take her in his arms, but his mind drifted over the story Ms. Polly had told, and his heart ached for his stubborn father.
