The Christmas Children. Irene Brand
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to tell you why Yuletide is no longer a Christmas town. If you have time, I’ll come over and fill you in.”
“Great! I’d like some company.”
Humming a Christmas song that she’d just heard on the television, Carissa rinsed the dishes she’d used for supper and put them in the dishwasher. She prepared a bowl of grapes, cheese cubes and crackers and placed the food on a table between two large lounge chairs in the living room. She poured a jar of fruit punch over ice and was placing it on the table when Paul knocked on the back door. She motioned him inside.
“Brr!” he said, taking off his coat and laying it on the back of the couch. “The temperature is dropping quickly. If it wasn’t already, the lake should be frozen enough that I can go ice fishing tomorrow. If I make a nice catch, I’ll invite you to have dinner with me in my apartment.”
“Can you cook?” Carissa asked as she motioned him to one of the chairs. It seemed rather odd to be acting as hostess to Paul in his sister’s house.
“I’m a fair cook,” he said. “I’ve prepared dinners many times for some of my co-workers. But I’m not such a good fisherman, though, so don’t whet your appetite for a fish fry until you see the fish.”
“Help yourself to the snacks,” Carissa invited. “I’ll take you up on the invitation. I’m not a good cook— I just make what satisfies my appetite, and that’s not always what others like to eat. I never cook a meal for anyone. If I have guests, I take them to a restaurant for dinner.”
“Since I kept you up most of last night, I hesitated to barge in on you—you’d probably like to go to bed early. I’m sleepy, too, but I want to adjust to Eastern Standard Time, so I’m forcing myself to stay up.”
“Good idea. I haven’t done much overseas travel, but it usually takes a week for me to get over jet lag.”
Paul poured a glass of fruit juice and sipped it as he talked. “As I told you earlier, when I was a kid, Yuletide was just like a fairyland during the Christmas season. But a tragedy one Christmas Eve changed all of that.”
He paused, stretched out his long legs and continued. “That night, a woman and her baby came to town asking for shelter. She went to several businesses and private homes, as well as the police station, but everybody was too busy to help. The people didn’t mean to be callous, but they just expected the next person to take care of her. No one did, and on Christmas morning the woman and child were found dead, huddled in the entrance to Bethel Church.”
“Oh, how terrible!” Carissa said feelingly, and memories of her own neglected childhood surfaced.
“The woman had fled from an abusive husband, and she died from complications of an unattended childbirth. The temperature went to zero that night and the baby died from exposure.”
What a tragedy! Carissa could understand the reason the citizens of Yuletide hesitated to celebrate Christmas.
“The strange part of it was that the church was presenting a program that night based on an old legend of how Jesus had appeared disguised in a town one Christmas Eve. Disguised as a child, a poor woman and a beggar, He went from person to person asking for help, but everyone was busy preparing to celebrate the coming of the Christ Child, and they turned these people away.”
“I’m familiar with the story. The townspeople eventually learned that if they’d helped those who came to them, they would have received Jesus, too. So the citizens of Yuletide felt that in refusing to help the mother and child, it was as if they’d refused, like those people or the biblical innkeeper, to shelter the baby Jesus?”
Paul nodded and lifted a hand to rub his forehead. Although he hid his discomfort well, obviously he was in pain.
“No one could generate any enthusiasm for a big celebration after that. Although I consider it superstition, the general feeling seems to be that when God has forgiven the people of Yuletide for neglecting those two people, He’ll give them an opportunity to redeem themselves.”
“Wouldn’t it be wonderful if this is the year?” Carissa said. “I came to Yuletide looking for the Christmas spirit I had as a child.”
“What made you start looking at this time?”
“I sold my clothing design business a few months ago, and when I was cleaning out the office and storage room, I found a trunk that my grandmother had left to me. My uncle had shipped it to me after her death. There wasn’t anything valuable in it—mostly memorabilia that I’d kept since my school years. I trashed most of the things, but I kept this—”
She picked up the white key, and Paul thought Carissa had forgotten his presence as her mind took her quickly down memory lane.
“When I was about six, I participated in a program at our church, and I carried this Key to Christmas. I went from place to place trying to fit the key into a lock, and when I finally found a door the key would open, a nativity scene was revealed. When I came across this key a month ago, I realized how far I’d strayed from the teachings I’d learned as a child. I knew then that I had to find a wintery place to relive the Christmases of my childhood. I didn’t want to return to Minnesota because it doesn’t hold pleasant memories for me. Besides, all of my close relatives have died. It seemed like a coincidence that Naomi wanted to change locations at the same time I did.”
“As far as that’s concerned, I need to be reminded of what Christmas really means, too. Carissa, I hope you can revive the meaning of Christmas that you once knew. Maybe we can find it together.”
Their eyes met and held for a minute before Carissa looked away, too confused to even answer. She swirled the liquid in her glass, thinking that she was acting like a child.
“I guess it’s time for me to go,” Paul said. “I’m getting sleepy now. And you must be tired, too, unless you slept while I was napping earlier.”
She shook her head. “No, I didn’t sleep. I unloaded the car and settled in. Thanks for coming over tonight.”
She held out her hand to him, and, unsuccessfully stifling his amazement, he tenderly clasped her hand in his.
Without meeting his gaze, she said, “Your gesture in the doctor’s office took me by surprise, or I wouldn’t have reacted so foolishly.”
“It was just a friendly gesture,” he assured her.
“I know. A foolish quirk of mine caused my reaction. I’ll tell you about it someday. And I hope we can become friends.” With a warm grin, she added, “It’s always a good idea to make friends with your next-door neighbor.”
Carissa fell asleep easily, not even worrying about the unlocked back door; she felt protected with Paul nearby. But she woke up suddenly, about the same time she’d awakened when Paul had entered the house the night before.
She’d heard something. Carissa sat up in bed to listen. The sound seemed to come from the kitchen, and she eased out of bed, wishing she’d kept the poker upstairs. Vowing that she would secure the back door before another night, Carissa ran quickly and silently downstairs.
When she reached the last step, she said, “Who’s there?”
She heard a gasp and a scurry of feet.
Too frightened to be careful, Carissa snapped on the lights and rushed into the kitchen, just in time to see the pantry door close. She pushed a table in front of that door.
Standing beside the intercom, she shouted, “Paul! Paul! I need help.”
Although it seemed like hours, it probably wasn’t more than a minute before she heard Paul’s muffled tone. Poor man! She thought, somewhat humorously, that she’d ruined another night’s rest for him.
“What’s wrong?”
“Somebody is in the house. Come help me.”
“I’ll come right away. Be careful!”
She