Holiday - 2007

Honorable Mentions:

Holiday Short Story Contest

Pauline H Gill

"Grammy's Last Selfish Act"

"I'm selfish," Grammy quipped.

"What do you mean, you're selfish?"  I handed Grammy the thread and ran my hand over her latest creation, a Christmas design for the upcoming church raffle.

"Quilting is my time to escape.  Isn't that being selfish?"

"No, Grammy.  You give the quilts away.   How can that be selfish?"

"I give the quilts away, so I can begin another."

            I shook my head and Grammy laughed. She was a comic dressed in crimson polyester pants, pink socks, and a Red Sox World Series sweatshirt.  But it was her work that drew my attention.  Her crooked fingers held the needle straight as she clinked her top-hat thimble over the between, deftly planting it down through the sandwiched layers, and pivoting it up for air.  Like a dolphin, the needle would dive and surface until she popped the thread creating small, even stitches that skipped across the fabric.  

            "I leave Saturday.  Are you going to miss me?" I asked.

            "Of course.  Did you call Lynn yet?"

            "Grammy, you know Lynn and I don't get along."

            "She's your sister."

            And with those words, stillness slipped between us, wedged so tightly it stifled the quiet.   

Lynn and I used to be close.  Two years apart, we grew up as friends fused together like double popsicles.  I was raspberry, tart and biting; Lynn was orange, sweet and predictable.

            We both wanted to be teachers.   When Lynn was a sophomore, she married and quit school.  I couldn't believe it.   Bob's greatest ambition was plopping in front of a TV, swigging beer, and seeing if he could sing the National Anthem while burping.   

            I graduated, moved to the state of Washington, married, and became an educational consultant. Lynn stayed in New Hampshire and raised a family.

As I once explained to Grammy, Lynn removed the cobwebs in a house; I removed the cobwebs in the mind. Our worlds did not connect.

"Annie dear, are we still talking?"

            "I'm sorry, Grammy.  I was drifting."  I hesitated. "Does Lynn visit you much?"

            "I see Lynn every week.  She checks on me and gives me updates on Tommy and Erica.  You've been here for a week.  Why didn't you see her?"

            "I don't know."  I bit my lip.   "I just get upset with all she gave up.  She would have been a good teacher."

            Grammy set down her needle and pulled off her glasses.   Her cornflower eyes studied me.  "Annie, you can't determine another's life. Who's to say she's wrong? Now pass me that spool of thread, so I can continue my stippling."

            My grandmother said no more.   I knew I would have to call Lynn. 

            But Saturday came. I hugged my mom and boarded the plane, never speaking to Lynn.   She could have called me.  I was here for a week. Why does it have to be me?

            Like a hamster running on its wheel, the holiday season rolled into action.   Before I knew it, December arrived and Grammy called about the Christmas pictures I forgot to send. 

I groaned. "Grammy, I'm sorry.  I never had them made into cards. It's hectic right now."

"Annie, you need to slow down."  I could see her cradling the phone as she snipped a stray thread.  

            "I'll get the pictures taken care of."

            "Annie, Bob may lose his job.   Lynn is frantic." 

            "And I need to know this because?"

            "Because you might want to call her."

            I could hear a slight annoyance in her voice.   But a few days later I was off to another conference.  Family took a backseat.  It was not that I forgot to call Lynn or that I forgot to send Grammy the Christmas pictures.   It was priorities.  My job came first.  Didn't it?

            But in one split second, life changed from what it used to be to life the way it would be.

 Grammy died.

 Mom stumbled through the details.   Heart attack.  Could I come?  Lynn was making arrangements.

            I hung up the phone and felt a cage surrounding me, trapping me in the moment. My throat tightened.   How could this happen?  Slowly I climbed the stairs.

 In the corner of my bedroom was the wedding quilt Grammy had made for me, interlocking circles of soft blues, greens, and pinks against a winter white background.   The circles represented wedding rings intertwined and continuous, never standing alone.   I held it to my face and cried.    "Grammy, I'm sorry.  I'm sorry I didn't write more; I didn't do as you asked."  I sat in the corner as hours faded into late afternoon until the phone jarred me.   I rubbed my swollen eyes and got up.
            "Annie?  It's Lynn.   Are you coming?"

            "Of course I am."  Did she think I'd abandon my grandmother?

            "Because I was going through Grammy's things and I found something.   It's just incredible, but I want to wait until you get here.  When will you arrive?"

            "I'll try to book a flight for tomorrow morning, but with Christmas less than two weeks away, I don't know what I can get. What did you find?"   I reached for a tissue.

            "Something puzzling.  You know Grammy stopped quilting?"

            "No."  My heart quickened.   Why didn't I know this?

            "Her hands became too arthritic and the glaucoma got worse.   I've got to go, but I'll pick you up."

            I set the phone down.  Why didn't I know she wasn't quilting? 

             Grammy was always the one who patted my hand and reassured me that I would survive my latest dilemma.   She talked me through boyfriend breakups and girlfriend feuds.  She listened to my cries when my son, Joey, broke his arm, and my ranting when Lynn made me mad.   She encouraged me to go to graduate school.  Was I so selfish that I hadn't seen her pain?  

            The next few days were a blur of revolving doors.  I stood with a frozen smile as I heard the familiar stories. Grammy had volunteered at the nursing home; she baked cookies for the church sales, and every year she donated one of her quilts for the Women's League raffle.   My grandmother was a gracious and generous soul.

 Great Aunt Helen finally took my hand and led me away from the crowds.   We sat in my mother's den listening to the soft ticking of the mantle clock.   The same cornflower eyes looked at me.  "You know, Annie, Rose was my best friend as well as my sister. Now I've lost both sisters."  She wiped her eyes with a crocheted hankie.

            "Both sisters?  What do you mean, Aunt Helen?   You and Grammy were the only two.  Weren't you?"  I squeezed my hand.  Did my aunt have Alzheimer's?    

            "Oh Dear, don't you remember?   Rose was a twin.  Our sister died at childbirth.  Rose said she always felt her there, as if she was part of her."   She touched her nose with the hankie and gently tucked it under her sleeve.  "You and Lynn reminded her of what it would have been like, if Rachel had lived."

            "Rachel?  Grammy's twin was named Rachel?   Your sister?"

            "Yes, Dear, and now I've lost them both."   She lowered her head.

            I hugged my aunt.  A twin?  Grammy was a twin?  No one told me.   Why didn't anyone tell me?

            When Lynn and I met at the crippled cape Grammy called home, I was still reeling with my discovery.   Lynn scurried off to the bedroom while I walked through each room, ebbing into my childhood:  the Jenny Lind spool bed I slept in, the shades of gray photo of Grammy and Grampy, the shell white basin planted on the honeyed oak commode, and the rhythmic ticking of the German cuckoo clock.  In the kitchen I could still smell cinnamon and nutmeg.  Grammy must have made her renowned spice cakes for the Christmas fair.   I sat at the kitchen table and smoothed the holly tablecloth.

"Are you ready for this?"  Lynn entered the kitchen clutching a red and green package.   "It's wrapped for Christmas, though I don't know how she expected us both to open it when I'm here and you're in Washington.  Now, I want you to look at this closely."   She placed the package on my lap.

 I looked up at my sister, hands on hips.  She's so in control. I peeled the paper aside to the familiar design, Grandmother's Flower Garden. The center hexagon was yellow and circled by prints and solids.   It must have taken Grammy forever to quilt.   My eyes drifted over the surface, and then I realized what Lynn was seeing, the familiar cloth.    "Lynn, is that the shirt you wore all the time?  And wait, that's a skirt of mine.  She made the quilt from our old clothes?"   I looked up at Lynn's Cheshire face.

            "She sure did. Mom said she used to come over to the house and rummage through the closets. You know Mom.   She still has everything.  But what I can't figure out is why.  There's a muslin label on the back."

            I turned the quilt over and read:   To my dear granddaughters, Lynn and Annie, always joined at the hips.

            "What does she mean?"  Lynn asked.

            I cradled my head and finally understood. "She wants us to find a way to enjoy this together, which means, we've got to start over as sisters, as friends."   I gazed at my sibling.

            Lynn sat in the chair beside me. "I never hated you.   I just thought you didn't want to be around me anymore." 

            "I was arrogant and snobbish, wasn't I?"

            "You got that right. Grammy used to talk about you all the time.   She'd tell me that you jumped into life, like jumping into inviting water, but you left everyone else on the shore.  She worried about you because you never seemed truly happy."

            "But I am.  I just can't seem to slow down.   I'm missing something, Lynn.  I'm not giving.  I would complain to Grammy, but never once did I ask about her or you or anyone.   It was always me." I looked at my sister.  "Did you know that Grammy had a twin sister who died at birth?"

            "Sure.  You didn't know?"  

            "There's a lot I didn't know."   I cupped my chin and stared at the red apple canister, probably full of gingerbreadmen.

            "So what do we do with this quilt?"   Lynn smoothed it with her hand.

            I smiled at my sister.  "You take it for now.  Next year, I take it.  It becomes tradition.  As sisters, we come together to remember Grammy and exchange the quilt."

            "Do you think she enjoyed making this?   It just looks like so much work." Lynn mused.

            "Are you kidding?  She had a ball making this.  It was her last selfish act."

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Honorable Mention

Holiday Short Story Contest

Dave Stauffer

"The Promise"

     “Papa is Gertrude going to be alright?” asked Chris.

     “I don’t know son,” said the boy’s father.  “She’s very sick, and the doctor has done about all he can do for her now.  We just have to leave her in God’s hands, trusting in Him.”

     “Papa, didn’t you tell me that God loves all His children?” asked Chris.

     “Yes, Son, I did,” answered his Father. 

     “Then why doesn’t God make her better?”

     “I don’t really know the answer to that Chris.  But he did say that if anyone is sick that we should pray for them. Would you like to do that for her now?”    

     “Uh huh.” replied Chris. 

     Chris and his father knelt down on the thick soft wool rug in front of their fire place and his father prayed.  When he finished, he asked Chris if he too would like to pray. 

     “Dear God,” Chris began.  “Would you please make my friend Gertrude better? She has been sick a long time and she is my best friend.  If you will make her well again I promise you that I will try to make all your children happy.  And I will even do it on your birthday so everyone will know it’s for you. Amen.”

     “That was quite a prayer, Chris,” said his father.  “Do you know how you’re going to do that?”

     “No Sir, but if God does make her well, then I will find a way to keep my promise. Papa?”

     “Yes, Son?” 

     “Will you help when she gets well?” 

“You can count on it, Chris.   You have a big heart and I think God is smiling on you right now!”

     The next day, Chris and his dad went over to see how Gertrude was doing.  Chris brought along a very special gift to give his friend.  They were delighted to see that Gertrude was indeed feeling better and the worst was over. 

     “I just don’t understand it,” said the doctor.  “She had a severe case of pneumonia and just like that, it’s gone! I just can’t figure it.” 

     Chris looked up at his dad and they both just smiled at each other.  “Here, Gertrude, I want you to have my toy bear.  He has always been my friend whenever I was sick since I was three years old.” Offered Chris.  Her eyes lit up with joy as she accepted the bear from his hands.

“Oh thank you so much Chris.” she said.  She hugged the bear and then with a sly smile leaned forward from her bed and kissed Chris on the cheek.  Chris immediately flushed and dropped his head downward, embarrassed by her kiss.  

     Gertrude completely recovered and as the years passed the two of them were ever together and shared most everything together.  Chris and his father were both now master craftsmen in the wood trade.  They made the finest furniture and fixings anywhere around.  Even Gertrude worked in the shop with them from time to time, adding a feminine touch here and there when something needed a bit dressing up.  One day, a man came by and asked if they could build him a grand sleigh for his beautiful draft horses to pull and they agreed to do the job for him.

     Shortly after that commission, Chris walked into the shop and found his father lying on the floor.  “Papa!” yelled Chris as he rushed to his father.  He lifted his father’s head from the dusty floor. 

  “Papa, Papa, what’s wrong papa?” he asked as tears began to flow down his cheeks.

     “I, I don’t know, Son.  But I think you best go get your mom. I want to say good bye to her.”     Chris saw the fear in Gertrude’s face as she leapt up and ran out of the shop.  “Don’t talk like that Papa. You’re going be alright, I just know you are,” cried Chris, almost sobbing now. 

     As she entered through the doorway, Chris saw his father’s jaw begin to quiver as he looked into the face of his mother and then he said to her,

      “I love you so, I always have. I’m sorry…so sorry,” he said to her in a barely audible voice. Chris’ mother stood there with her hands up to her mouth unable to move. His father’s gaze then fell upon Chris, with eyes full of tears he said to him,

“Remember your promise . . .”he uttered softly.  His body went limp and his tear filled eyes looked into the distance. 

     “Papa!” yelled Chris.  “Papa!  No.  Don’t go.  Don’t leave us.  We need you!”

     But there was no answer.  His father was gone.

     Chris got up and reached out to the two crying women, wrapping his arms about them. They held each other and wept.  Then Chris picked up his father, and carried him to the house and laid him on the bed.  It was late November.  The house smelled of wood smoke and pine.  He went to the window and stared at the large fluffy white crystals that had just appeared.  The first snowfall of the year had just arrived.  Large flakes floated softly and quietly to the ground. All about was quiet. 

     Two days later the funeral and wake was attended by folks from miles around.  Chris’s father was a beloved man who had passed and everyone came to pay their respects.  The pastor gave a beautiful sermon and after the grave was filled in and all had said their goodbyes, everyone returned to Chris and his mom’s house.  The women had prepared a big meal. Afterwards all the family and friends shared their own precious memories of Chris’s father until nightfall.  As the sun sank beyond the trees, everyone went their way to their own homes. 

 Chris finished the sleigh by himself.  When the man came to pick it up, he was amazed by the splendor of it.  He was so overjoyed with his new prize that he paid Chris a handsome bonus.   Afterwards, Chris didn’t feel much like working in the shop which now brought him the sadness of his father’s death there.

     Chris took the money from the sleigh and bought a piece of land far off to the desolate north where no one lived but Nomadic people who herded and made their living off deer.  The ‘Nomads’ as Chris called them,  domesticated these strange-looking cousins of the Caribou and trained them to accept a harness to pull sleighs during times of snow, which lasted for many months in this country.  Because these animals were controlled by a pair of reins, they called these odd creatures “Reindeer.”

     Chris built another woodworking shop, using the wood of a beautiful pine forest located a ways off to the southeast.  He made this place enormous compared to his fathers small shop.  He also built a modest home and stable for his animals which adjoined the shop.  When the buildings were complete, he began to build something very special -another sleigh.  But there were big differences in this one.  Not only was it to be extremely ornate, it was being built on a grand scale.  The sleigh would be nearly four times the size of the one he had built before!

      When his sleigh was finally completed, Chris adorned the sides with bells so he could be heard whenever he was about.  Then because there were virtually no horses available in the area, he purchased eight reindeer to pull his sleigh.  The sleigh would be housed along with the reindeer in a magnificent stable equipped with individual stall for each of the animals.     Upon completion of all the building structures, Chris went to the Nomads and asked if anyone would like to work in his shop to help build toys.    Everyone turned him down, claiming they had no skills to do this.  However, after much discussion he convinced them to allow their children to come to his shop and Apprenticeship as toy builders. He explained that he wouldn’t be able to pay them much because he was not going to sell the toys, but give them away!  So when things were operating smoothly and everyone doing their part, he hitched up the reindeer to his magnificent sleigh and drove back to his Mother’s home.  Chris returned home to see his mother and to tell her of his plans.  He convinced his mother to sell the family home and come live with him.  He then went to visit Gertrude.   When he came pulling up into her yard, he saw her peering out the window at him.  Then the front door suddenly flew open and she ran straight into his open arms.  After they embraced for a moment, he led her back into the house where he asked to speak to her father in private.  When he returned to the room where Gertrude waited, he took her by the hand and led her over to the fireplace.  There he knelt before her and said, “Gertrude, I have always loved you even from the time we were but small children. I can’t even imagine my life without you. Will you consent to become my wife?” 

     “I have known ever since you gave me your stuffed bear when I was sick.  I knew then, that one day you would be my husband,” she said.  “Of course I shall.” 

     Hand in hand they knelt before the fire and asked God to bless their union.

     “And now repeat after me” said Reverend Minsk; “I, Gertrude, take thee Chris to be my beloved husband…” 

     After the wedding ceremony marriage, Chris loaded his mother’s and his new wife’s belongings into the sleigh.  They said their goodbyes to all their family and friends, then headed north into the snow country.  The two women talked almost all the way, but fell speechless when until they pulled up to the front of the magnificent house   Chris had built.  They stared in awe at of the sight before them. 

     As they stepped out of the sleigh and stood marveling, Chris said, “I have something to tell both of you.” Chris said, as they stepped out of the sleigh.   “Do you remember what Papa said to me as he died?”  The two women stood without comment waiting for the explanation of his question.  Father said to me “Remember your promise.”  “Well, the promise he was talking about was this...” He spoke of the promise I had made to God during a prayer for Gertrude when she fell so ill as a child.  I have built this place to keep that promise.  He determined to find every child he could on Christmas eve and give them toys to celebrate God giving His son to us on Christmas Day.

     And so when Christmas Eve came, Chris unfurled his list, and donned his new suit of furs Gertrude had made him for this special night. He hitched up his eight reindeer and filled his sleigh with huge bags of toys.  Then calling each reindeer by name, he stuck his pipe in his mouth and with a gentle slap of the reins off he went to keep the promise he’d made that day so long ago!