Christmas Gold - Part 5 of 6

Part V

Christmas Season 2010

What am I doing? Nicole asked herself soon as she was able to discern that the car coming toward her was a blue Chevy HHR. How do you know the driver you're waving down is someone you can trust?

She glimpsed through the window of the sideways vehicle she'd just crawled out of and thought perhaps she could grab that spearmint mouth spray in the glove box before the driver came to a complete start. It might not be as affective as Mace, but she didn't imagine that a spray of mouthwash in the eyes would make someone think she was kidding. But the Chevy HHR came to an abrupt halt before she could think about tunneling back in her vehicle.

The words, "I think I can manage this," also died on her lips soon as a tall guy wearing a CWU hoodie and cargo pants emerged from his car. Nicole didn't have time to look at his face; the first thing she noticed was the small, round orange in the palm of his hand.

He peeled a slice and devoured it before assessing the damage to her car.

"Breakfast," he said by way of explanation. "They're addictive like candy. At least they're a bit better for you."

Not wanting to launch into the reasons she could do without them at the moment, she waited for him to dust his hands off on his pants and turn his attention toward her plight.

"Thanks for stopping" she said before he could remark on the talent it must have taken to end up in the ditch, "I would have called for a tow, but my cell phone died. Do you think I could borrow yours?"

He removed his I Phone from his pocket and pressed "unlock" before handing it over. "Are you al right?" he asked, gesturing toward the waylaid vehicle. "It looks like you scratched yourself there." He motioned toward her left cheek, and Nicole rose a gloved hand to it. She'd been so observant of the windshield cracking and the door denting that she hadn't noticed she'd nicked herself when the car veered partway over the shoulder.

"I'm fine," she said, "just frustrated at the situation. It couldn't have come at a worse time." Nicole feigned a smile meanwhile cataloging the things that came before the cost of having her car towed: payments on the dining room set, riding herself of that Nordstrom deficit, saving for college classes since she realized she wanted to attend after all.

Trying to keep a stiff upper lip, Nicole started dialing the numbers for her work so she could tell them to expect a late entrance, but she momentarily lapsed over the seven digits.

"If you wouldn't mind," the friendly stranger said, "I think I could probably drive that car out for you. Not all four wheels are down the other side, so with a little maneuvering, it should work."

"Really?" Nicole asked, glancing up at him and seeing his face for the first time. She hadn't really stopped to notice his features before, so humiliated was she over her inability to control her vehicle. But now that he was offering her a branch of hope, she couldn't help but notice how his eyes were the color of glaciers and that the smile he offered was kind, not amused or mocking in the slightest.

"If you think you'd be able, by all means, go ahead," she told him, gesturing toward the Lumina. "I should have known it was foolish to drive without snow tires or chains. It's just so icy on this road, and the tires lost their grip more than once. Even if you are able to get it out, I don't want to drive it anymore today. I think I'll ask you to leave it at the gas station." Realizing she was rambling, Nicole stopped talking abruptly and tightened the scarf around her neck.

"That's al right," he said gently, easing her scattered state, "it's pretty icy out there for me too, and I have snow tires. Once I get this outta here, I could drive it to the Chevron for you."

"Thank you," Nicole said, watching a snowflake fall on her nose. "The keys are still in the ignition."

Drawing her arms across her chest, Nicole stood back and humbly waited for her Good Samaritan to extract her treacherous car from the crest of the embankment. As sludge sputtered up and the wheels spun off specs of ice, Nicole was fully confident her Lumina would escape a tow and further encounters with compact snow and ice. For this she was grateful, but she wasn't pondering how she'd eluded potential disaster any longer.

Instead her mind settled on those words her grandfather had spoken to her last night, Maybe you shouldn't get anything for Christmas then. In my day, you were fortunate enough to even get a whole orange to yourselves. His brittle tone and the implied accusation that she was selfish angered her behind belief. But now she considered how his words might actually be warranted. What else would grab her attention, how else would someone peel back her layers and show her she was even in the least bit, wrong?

1934

Ed stood before the bathroom mirror and finished parting his hair with his father's comb when Missy came upon him and said, "I don't know if this is going to work."

They'd finished compiling the goods they thought would go unnoticed for awhile: toys they'd outgrown, a dessert cook book that was scarcely used anymore, and Ed's baseball mitt among other items.

Determination written in his brow, Ed told his sister, "It has to."

Before she could second guess their plot, he reached for the sack in her hand and said, "Mother's practicing organ at the church, right?"

Missy nodded despite her uncertainty about what was about to happen. "She told me this was her last year of accompanying the choir."

Ed frowned at this; he knew the implication behind this decision; their mother didn't trust her hands to remain steady through another season's music.

"I should be back before she comes home," Ed said, refusing to lose focus. He straightened the collar of his cotton-white shirt. "If she asks where I am, tell her I'm playing outside."

Missy puckered her lips, a dubious expression on her face. "I am a terrible liar; you know that."

"I'm not asking you to lie," Ed said, wishing that his older sister wouldn't waffle now; "I'll be walking outdoors there and back."

Just as he finished justifying his whereabouts, they noticed their four-year-old sister Evelyn looking up at them expectantly. Neither of them had heard her tiptoe in the bathroom in her stocking feet, and now confusion was written upon her face.

"Where are you going?" she asked her brother pointedly.

"Nowhere," Ed said frustrated, adjusting his stance in efforts to hide the black bag behind him.

It was too late. She'd already glimpsed the sack full of goods and was trying to wrap around her brother so she could see what was inside.

Missy, thinking fast on her feet, crouched down to Evelyn's level and said, "You don't have to look inside. It's...it's Mother's dowry."

Quite taken back, Ed smacked his hand to his forehead and wondered how they could possibly backtrack this. Their mother's dowry? What was that supposed to mean? She'd married their father a long time ago.

Missy took a deep breath and began. "Remember the legend Mother told us about St. Nick throwing those gold coins down the chimney?" Evelyn nodded uncertainly at this, but kept listening. "In that story, the father didn't want to accept any charity from others since he wanted to be the one to provide for his daughters. Well, Ed and I realized that Mother does kind things for us and sacrifices to buy us Christmas presents. We thought we'd do the same thing for her so we found some of our toys that we don't play with anymore and put them inside." Missy drew her index finger to her lips and said, "Please don't tell her we're doing this. They aren't worth much money, but we hope to save up the coins we get and buy something for her in the future."

Evelyn chewed on this a moment and said, "I don't play with Mr. Rabbit very much anymore. I'll donate ‘im if there's another child who wants ‘im."

Ed was about to step in and tell her there was no need; Mr. Rabbit had been cried over, and had too many noses blown over him to fetch a penny, but Missy was already nodding. "We'll wait while you get him. Thank you for giving toward the dowry, Evie." At that, their little sister ran off.

Unable to restrain himself any longer, Ed said, "You're the one who's going to need a dowry, Missy. Mom might not have much money, but she was married a long time ago."

Missy gave him a sour expression; if he didn't know there was none in the pantry he'd have thought she'd bitten into a tart piece of fruit. "You're not gonna make it if you don't leave now."

Soon as the seen-better-days Rabbit was inside the black bag, Ed threw the sack over his right shoulder and set out the front door. He paid no heed to the white flurry that'd begun moments before he left. Instead, he set one boot before the other, intent on making it to the practice before it closed at five o'clock.

He couldn't have moved any faster considering the bulk pressing into his shoulder. Once his boot lost traction on the ice, and he fell forward, his palms imprinted on the solid ground. When he noticed a ribbon of blood on his left knee, he grit his teeth, stood up and moved faster. Ed raised his eyes to the sky and realized he couldn't do it on his own paper; He asked the One who was omniscient to guide his steps, and at that, he picked up the pace.