Christmastime 1942

by Linda Mahkovec

  Worse and worse. “Oh, Mr. Mason. I am sorry.” Mrs. Sullivan sat down at this point, knowing that the tale was not going to be a pretty one.

  He looked down at the floor again, remembering Edith’s young face. “She was in love as only a young girl can be – with dreams of the future, of marrying him and having children. The wedding was planned. The girls were involved in it. We were all so happy. She had made it through the illness, and was ready to pick up where she had left off.”

  Again he put his hand to his forehead and rubbed it, as if warding off a headache or some unpleasant thought. “I met Jack at college. He had a promising future ahead of him. Was fun-loving. I thought he loved Edith.”

  He slowly nodded, confirming the details with himself. “And then one evening, about a month after her recovery, Jack stopped by the house. To see me. I could tell he had been drinking, I guess to make what he had to say easier. At the time, Edith’s limp was more pronounced, and it looked as though she might have to walk with the help of a cane. Ole Jack started to hint that he wanted to break off the engagement. Said Edith needed some time. I could see what he was getting at. We began arguing. I didn’t realize that Edith had returned home from the doctor, or I would never have raised my voice.”

  “And Edith heard?” asked Mrs. Sullivan, dreading the answer.

  “She was there – on the staircase. She heard everything Jack said. I’ll never forget his words: ‘she’s not the same girl I fell in love with. Come on, Robert – you can’t expect me to marry a cripple.’”

  Mrs. Sullivan groaned. She knew the proud young woman well enough to know how deeply the words would cut her.

  “A cripple!” said Mason, freshly outraged. “In one fell stroke he had reduced my sister, our wonderful Edith, to something to be shunned, pitied! My heart broke when I heard those words – to describe Edith as some wounded thing of no value. I lost my head and began shouting, and Edith quietly stepped into the room – still so pale, so fragile – yet stony in her resolve. ‘Robert!’ she cried. ‘Let him go.’ She held his gaze, with him squirming like the worm he was, until he hurried out.”

  Mrs. Sullivan’s eyes blazed with anger. “The worthless scoundrel! I’d like to find him and box his ears!”

  It was a few moments before Mason could pick up the story.

  “After that, she closed down. She never said a word. Never shed a tear. But we all saw the results of sleepless nights. She grew thinner and thinner. There was a point where I began to fear for her life. She pulled through, and put up a brave front. But our old Edith was gone.”

  Mrs. Sullivan placed her hand over her heart. “Oh, the poor, dear girl.”

  Mason took a deep breath and let it out. “The other girls have had heartaches and disappointments – they cry and mope and go a few days looking all wrung out – and then they bounce back. But Edith feels things more deeply. She always has. And now to see her full of that girlish happiness again, getting her hopes up, with an actor, for God’s sake. What chance of happiness does she have?”

  “And yet it is a chance! Give her credit for opening herself up again, for allowing herself to hope. Unlike you, I’ve met the gentleman – he’s a lovely man, with integrity and honor. Of course, I could be wrong – but don’t we all take that chance with love?”

  Mason shook his head. “I couldn’t bear for her to go through that again. To get hurt again.”

  “Oh, Mr. Mason, you’re such a worrier. To quote someone or other: ‘A ship in harbor is safe – but that’s not what ships are for.’ Let her weather the storms, and get tossed about by tempests, but for heaven’s sake, let her sail!”

  Mason studied the floor again, considering her words.

  Mrs. Sullivan took the hankie from her sleeve and blew her nose. “Enough of all this. You’ve blamed yourself for long enough. Time to butt out of Edith’s affairs and let her live her own life.” She sniffed again. “You do know he’s shipping out soon to entertain the troops.”

  Mason looked up sharply. “No. I didn’t know. That must be why she’s so subdued.”

  “He’s putting himself in harm’s way. There’s never any knowing what will happen over there, who will come back. It’s best not to have any regrets.”

  “You’re absolutely right, Mrs. Sullivan. As usual,” he added with a smile. “I’ll talk to her. Set things right.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. And forgive me if I spoke out of turn.”

  “No, no. I’m glad you did. I’ve been in a bit of a quandary lately, unsure of what to do, how to handle this whole thing.”

  Mrs. Sullivan rose to her feet and began to gather her things. She lifted a large bag from beneath her desk, and set it down as she reached for her coat. “Well, I’m off to the department store.”

  Mason leaned forward on hearing the jangle of bells, and caught a glimpse of bright red and fluffy white fabric poking out of her bag. “Mrs. Sullivan – is that a Santa costume in your bag? I thought you said Brendan was sick.”

  “He’s down with a cold. Putting in long hours at the shipyard, and in general behaving like a man half his age. So I’ll be playing Santa tonight, and every night until he gets better.” She noted the surprise in Mason’s eye, and added, “I’m not the first female Santa this year, with all the men away or working. Though, if I may say so myself, I’m a bit more believable than most.”

  “That’s very commendable of you,” said Mason, clearly amused by the idea.

  “We can’t let the little ones down. Christmas will come whether we’re ready for it or not. And, if truth be told, I rather enjoy it.”

  Mason chuckled as he imagined Mrs. Sullivan in the Santa costume. “You must be quite a sight in your red – ”

  “No comment, thank you, sir.” Mrs. Sullivan started to leave, but did an about face at the door and thrust out her chin: “The show must go on, after all. As Mr. Desmond Burke might say.”

  Chapter 13

  *

  Tommy and Gabriel had emptied their banks and were now on their way to The Red String Curio Store.

  Gabriel twirled around every lamppost they passed, singing bits and pieces of Christmas carols in between talking to Tommy. “So we know what we’re going to get for Mom. What about Dad?”

  Tommy screwed up his mouth. “I don’t know. Gino got him that piece of scrimshaw. That was a good idea. Maybe we’ll find something about the ocean, or sailing.”

  The little bell rang when the boys opened the door to the shop. The Red String Curio Store was one large labyrinth of assorted items from the past one hundred years, full of treasures to some, junk to others. It was more crowded than the boys had ever seen.

  The old store owner wore his Victorian red and green brocade vest, in honor of the season. “Hello, boys! Anything I can help you find?”

  “We want to get our Mom some of those old-fashioned cards,” said Tommy. “Like old Christmas cards. For her collection.”

  “She’s an artist,” added Gabriel, “and likes that kind of stuff.”

  “Ah, yes. I seem to remember you bought her some Valentine’s Day cards last year. Come this way. We have a wide selection. Postcards, for the most part.”

  He walked down one aisle, then up another, and stood still for a moment, getting his bearings. Then he made a sharp right, and then a left, and came upon two old wooden filing cabinets with narrow, deep drawers. He lowered his glasses to the end of his nose and pointed to the labels. “I haven’t gotten around to alphabetizing them, but everything is arranged by subject matter, for the most part. You might have to poke around a bit.”

  He opened a drawer and read a few tabs. “For example, here we have The World’s Fair – 1904, that is. St. Louis. And here’s Niagara Falls. Horseless Carriages.” He gave a little chuckle at one of the images, before closing that drawer and opening another. “Travel. You should take a look at this drawer, if you get a chance. There’s a remarkable world out there.” He moved to the second cabinet and ran his finger over the labels. “Aha! Here
we are – Holidays and Celebrations!”

  He pulled out one of the long narrow drawers and read off different tabs. “Easter. Halloween. Fourth of July. Hmm,” he said, getting to the back of the drawer. “Bastille Day. Guy Fawkes Day – only three cards in that one. No. Not there.” He shut the drawer with a bang, and slid open the drawer next to it, his face brightening. “Ah! Here we are – Christmas!” He pulled out the drawer and set it on a rickety old table for the boys to look through. “Just holler if you need anything,” and he disappeared back into the labyrinth.

  “Okay, thanks.” The boys looked at each other, and then started to sort through the drawer.

  Tommy began to read off the tabs. “Boxing Day. Christmas Trees. Yuletide – ”

  “You sound just like him,” said Gabriel. “Maybe you could get a job here.”

  Tommy pulled out postcards one by one, and waited for Gabriel to say yes, no, or maybe. They ended up with a stack of twenty cards, most of them depicting rosy-cheeked children, snowy villages, and prettily-dressed ladies. Then they searched around and found two old piano stools close by, sat on them, and began to narrow down their choices.

  “They all look alike, after a while,” said Tommy, looking at yet another Victorian maiden with a bunch of holly in her arms.

  “No, they don’t,” said Gabriel. “Look, this lady is skating. This one is holding a wreath. And this one is hanging some – ”

  “Okay, okay, just pick out the best ones.”

  They finally decided on six cards. Gabriel put the rest back in the drawer. “Mom’s going to love these,” he said. “Hey, look! Here’s one about ‘Father.’ Maybe Dad would like it.” He began to read: “‘Here comes Father Christmas. Come meet him, boys and girls.’”

  Tommy peered over at the card and frowned. “That’s about Father Christmas, Gabriel. He’s like Santa.”

  Gabriel cocked his head and studied the image. “I like Santa better. He’s fatter and looks like more fun.”

  Tommy turned suddenly to Gabriel. “But that’s a great idea, Gabe! Maybe we can find a card for Dad.”

  They ran their fingers down the remaining drawers, and found a label marked Family. They opened it, and after Mother, there was a small selection under Father.

  Tommy pulled out an assortment of about fifteen cards. “Not much to choose from. Father Time. Father’s Day.”

  Gabriel grabbed at a card, amused by the drawing of a portly old gentleman standing on his head. “How about this one? Listen:

  ‘You are old, Father William,’ the young man said, ‘And your hair has become very white; And yet you incessantly stand on your head – Do you think, at your age, it is right?’

  ‘In my youth – ’

  “Gabriel, that’s from Alice in Wonderland,” Tommy said. “We can’t give him that. How about this one? ‘Father dear the years are passing with their pleasures and their cares.’” He wrinkled his nose. “Nah. Too mushy.” He stuck it back in the drawer.

  Gabriel continued reading the rest of “Father William,” laughing at the end of each stanza.

  Tommy found a Father’s Day card from the 1920s of a man fishing. Another of a man playing golf. He put them back in the drawer. Then he found a card that read simply, “Father.” A tall tree with rocks around its base rose alongside the edge of the card, next to a tranquil lake. In the middle was a poem written in an old-fashioned script. Tommy read the first line. “‘A rock of strength to lean upon in time of joy or stress.’” He looked doubtfully at Gabriel.

  Gabriel shrugged, and read the next line. “‘An understanding, loyal soul, A heart of tenderness.’ It kind of sounds like Dad.”

  Tommy read the last lines. “‘A mind all wisdom, knowing how justice and love to blend; A teacher, loving, patient, kind. My Father and my friend.’”

  They looked at each other for a few seconds, blinking and considering. “Do you think it’s too sappy?” asked Tommy.

  “Kind of. But I think he might like it.”

  “Me, too.” Tommy cracked his knuckles as he studied the card. “Okay. Let’s get it,” he said, secretly elated that he had found such a perfect card. It said exactly what he felt – my Father and my friend.

  “Let’s get ‘Father William,’ too,” said Gabriel, clasping his hands under his chin – “please? It’s funny. He’ll like it. Please?”

  Tommy rolled his eyes. “Oh, all right.”

  Gabriel gave a little hop of joy, and then thinking they had finished with their shopping, he started back to the counter.

  But Tommy held his arm. “Wait, Gabe.”

  Gabriel jerked his head back. “You’re not going to get my present here, are you? I want something new.”

  “No, not for you. For Amy. Remember what Gino said?”

  Gabriel nodded. “Oh, yeah. You have to get something that shows you were listening.”

  Tommy’s face filled with worry. “And it has to be something – special. That she’ll like.”

  “How about a necklace?” asked Gabriel.

  “Nah.”

  “Perfume?”

  Tommy shook his head.

  “Well, what kind of things does she talk about?”

  Tommy twisted his mouth. “She talks about her family. About school. How she wants to be a scientist when she grows up.”

  “So let’s find something about science.”

  Tommy bit his fingernail, and then nodded. He looked around the maze-like store. “We better split up.”

  The boys wandered down the aisles individually, bending down to look in the glass cases, moving objects on the shelves to see what was behind them, rummaging through boxes of miscellaneous objects.

  Gabriel rounded a corner and bumped into a black-shawled mannequin – and gave a cry of alarm when it turned around and addressed him.

  “Hello, little boy!” said a very old woman, smiling and bending down to his level.

  “Hello!” Gabriel cried over his shoulder as he hurried into the next aisle.

  After another turn or two, Gabriel came across a shelf full of used science objects. He read the spine of a dusty chemistry book, and was just lifting an old Bunsen burner to inspect, when he heard Tommy call out to him.

  “Gabriel! Come quick! I think I found something.”

  Gabriel ran down one aisle, then another. “Where are you?”

  “Over here! In the back.”

  “Where?”

  “Here!”

  Gabriel followed Tommy’s voice and finally found him sitting on an old upturned crate, looking at something that appeared to be a map.

  Tommy lifted his face, a big satisfied smile lighting up his eyes.

  “What is it?” Gabriel looked over at the map – and then gave an intake of surprised delight. “The stars!”

  “It’s a book on constellations, with this pull-out map. It tells when you can see them, and which hemisphere they’re in.”

  “It’s science. That shows you were listening!” Gabriel said, amazed that everything had worked out just like Gino said it would.

  “Hey, look!” Tommy pointed to a constellation, the connecting lines to the stars making the outline of a man, with three bright stars in his belt.

  “Gino’s star!” exclaimed Gabriel.

  “‘Orion, the Hunter,’” read Tommy. “‘The Orion constellation lies in the northern sky, on the celestial equator, and is visible throughout the world.”’ He ran his finger under the description, stumbling over the names. “‘Its brightest stars are Rigel – Beta Orionis, and Betelgeuse – Alpha Orionis.”’ He looked up at Gabriel, his face in awe of all this new-found knowledge.

  Gabriel gave a firm nod of his head. “You found the perfect gift, Tommy. Amy’s going to love it! Gino would be proud of you.”

  Tommy’s mouth curled in his half-smile. “You think so?”

  “Yep.”

  Tommy jumped up from the crate with the book tucked under his arm. “Come on. Let’s bring our stuff to the counter. Then what do you say we
stop off at the soda fountain on our way home? Get a sundae or something.”

  Gabriel opened his eyes wide. “Hooray! Ice cream!” He looked up at Tommy. “I scream! You scream!” He waited for Tommy to finish the lines.

  “We all scream for ice cream!”

  Tommy’s heart swelled at the thought that his gifts were going to make so many people happy. He draped his arm around Gabriel’s shoulder and they paid for their gifts, thanking the little old man for all his help.

  “I’m happy you found what you were looking for,” the store owner said, wrapping the book in green paper and then tying it up with red string. “Merry Christmas, boys! Glad tidings, and all that!”

  “Merry Christmas!” said Tommy, hugging the book to his chest.

  “Glad tidings to you, too!” hollered Gabriel, causing Tommy to laugh as they left the store.

  Gabriel resumed his twirling around lampposts and singing Christmas carols all the way to the soda fountain. After a few lines of “Good King Wenceslas,” Gabriel ran to catch up with Tommy.

  “Hey, Tommy – What’s the Feast of Stephen?”

  Tommy opened the door to the soda fountain for Gabriel. “I don’t know. Let’s ask Dad. He’ll know. He knows everything.”

  Chapter 14

  *

  Edith pressed her hand to her head, and restlessly set aside the newspaper that was filled with news of the war. She then spent a few minutes trying to engage with her book, but was unable to focus her attention. Christmas music and laughter floated upstairs from the living room where her sisters and mother were sewing costumes for the hospital show. Giggles and cries of delight sounded from the kitchen where Susan and the children were piecing together a gingerbread house. It was the Saturday before Christmas, and spirits were high. All as it should be.

  Usually, Edith was grateful for the cheerfulness of her family, but today it only accentuated the dismal state of mind that she couldn’t shake.

  When her sisters called up to her a second time to come and join them, she set her book down and decided that she would go for a walk. She didn’t want to disappoint them by declining again, and yet she wanted to be alone. Though she was good at hiding her emotions, she felt that her presence would be a dark cloud hovering over their happiness. And there was the issue of Robert; he had gone into work for a few hours and would be home soon. She would just as soon avoid him.