A Christmas to Remember Read online

  Fifteen minutes later

  I started in on “God rest ye merry, gentlemen.” Aunt broke off. Then I heard her laugh. Now she is singing “Jingle Bells.” That’s more like it.

  Con came by but Fanny had gone out to do Christmas shopping. “Tell her I came by,” said Connie with a big smirk. I did not promise. I think Fanny partly went early so she would not be here if Con came.

  Fan said I could not come with her. She must be buying my present. What do you suppose it is, Ben?

  I got you a ball made of cloth and a set of alphabet blocks. They are perfect.

  Fanny just came in and shot upstairs with parcels to hide. And her old friend Margery was with her. I can hear them talking a mile a minute. Oh my, Ben, things are improving by leaps and bounds.

  Sunday, December 19, 1920

  Dear Ben,

  At church, they asked me to help out in the nursery. You were so good. Betsy Walker yelled her head off when she hit her nose on the bar of the playpen, and you crawled over and patted her and made soft comforting sounds until she smiled. We taught the older ones “Away in a Manger.” Well, we sang it to them and they sort of hummed along.

  It seems such a happy time, but one of the teachers was crying because her husband still has no job even though he’s been back from the War for nearly a year.

  Another of the teachers made me feel selfish for being excited about Christmas coming. She says her children will have presents because they have grandparents to help out, but lots of children won’t. I wish we could help, Ben, but thousands of men must have hundreds and hundreds of children. I’ll ask Father.

  Monday, December 20, 1920

  Dear Ben,

  Father and Theo brought home a tree. It smells wonderful. We set it up, with lots of trials and errors, and it is halfway decorated.

  I brought up the subject of the men with no jobs and the children without presents. I knew we could not help many, but maybe we could help ONE family if we knew of one.

  “We’ll think about it, Fiona,” Father said, looking serious and pleased at the same time.

  I am very hopeful. Good night.

  Tuesday, December 21, 1920

  Dear Ben,

  Our whole house smells like a forest!

  The minute Father finished asking the grace at supper, Aunt told us that she had found a family that needed our help. “I had a feeling you would,” Father said, beaming at her. Aunt told us that a woman was at the library this morning when she was taking back our books. The woman had come in to get warm and she was looking so despairing that Aunt struck up a conversation with her. Her sister’s family has nothing. The woman herself said she could not manage to help out, because she has four children of her own and her husband lost his leg in the War. Anyway, Aunt said she knew right away that here was our chance, so she kept talking until she learned where the family lived, and all the children’s names and ages. She moved to another table and scribbled them down to be sure.

  Suddenly Theo said, “There are lots of presents piling up in the living room. Maybe we could share. I would be willing to give my new striped pyjamas.”

  “How do you know you have new pyjamas in there?” Aunt demanded, giving him her fierce look. He smiled like an angel and said the corner ripped when he was moving the parcel and he couldn’t help but see.

  Everyone burst out laughing, even you, Ben.

  Then Aunt got her scribbled list out of her handbag and we began to fetch things we had hidden away. I am sorry, Ben, but I put your cloth ball into the box. Not your alphabet blocks though.

  Father’s Fifth-Form English class had taken up a collection and given him money for a Christmas turkey, so he donated that. We already had one turkey from Grandma and Grandy’s farm. We will pack it all tomorrow and leave it on the family’s doorstep on December 23 so the mother can stop worrying. They only live a few blocks away. Father put in a pair of socks Grandmother had knitted for him, and a pipe and tobacco. Then Aunt contributed a nightgown she had bought for herself to wear on Christmas. It was so pretty with lace at the neck and hem. Father took a good look at it and I’ll bet he gets her one to take its place.

  The oldest girl, Belinda, is twelve, so I gave her one of my precious books, Eight Cousins. I loved it when I was that age. I still love it, as a matter of fact.

  Fanny says we should make the family some fudge. I felt my smile exactly matching hers. It was marvellous. She felt it too — I could see.

  Wednesday, December 22, 1920

  Dear Ben,

  You took a step! And I was there to see you do it! You let go of the playpen railing and took a step to cut the corner and then you grabbed on with both fists to the other railing. You looked astonished at what you had just done. Then you sat down. I am watching to see you do it again.

  You did!

  When I ran to tell everyone, guess what? I caught Fanny reading Eight Cousins with MY glasses on. I had left them on the table because they were pinching my nose. I could not believe that my sister, the one with the eagle eyes, was using my spectacles for reading.

  I just stood staring. Then Aunt came in and stood beside me, both of us gazing at Fanny in amazement. “How would you like spectacles for Christmas, Francesca?” Aunt said softly.

  Fanny went red as fire and dropped the book.

  I had just remembered to tell about your first step when you let out a yell at being left alone so long, so I told them and they were most impressed. Then you did it again, which helped.

  After supper

  The Christmas boxes are all packed. That family will be so surprised to find their names on the parcels. Father made a card that read With love and good wishes for a Merry Christmas from S. Claus.

  Theo stared at the card. Then he said, “You write just like Santa Claus.” Father grinned and said he did his best.

  Theo glared at him and shouted, “I’m still hanging up my stocking.”

  “Me too,” said Father and gave him a giant hug.

  Tomorrow night we are going to take the boxes over after dark and leave them on that family’s porch. Jo and Aunt will stay home with you, Ben, but the rest of us all want to go.

  Thursday, December 23, 1920

  Bedtime

  Dear Ben,

  We did it! It was incredibly exciting. There were two big boxes, one filled with food and one with presents. There was some tinsel too and Father slid in an envelope. I think it had some extra money in it for the family to spend any way they like. He put his finger to his lips so I did not ask.

  We towed the boxes on our toboggan and stopped a couple of houses up the street. We hid behind a big clump of evergreens. Some places had wreaths on the door but theirs didn’t. It was late and all the windows were dark.

  Then Father took one of the boxes and Fan and I carried the other between us and Theo hopped and danced along, hoping we would drop something that he would have to rescue. We did. A box of popping corn. Theo scooped it up in a flash. We were so quiet, even though I had a terrible time not giggling. We put the boxes on their porch and skedaddled back to the toboggan. Father stayed behind long enough to knock on the door and then he ran after us. I have never seen him run so fast. We waited until a light went on and then we scurried away before they could come out. I wish we could have waited a couple of minutes more, just to see their faces.

  Tomorrow night we will hang up our stockings, including yours, little Ben, and it will be lovely, but I don’t think anything that happens from now on will be able to measure up to tonight.

  Christmas Eve

  December 24, 1920

  Dear Ben,

  Today we have all been busy getting the last-minute things ready and wrapping little secret treats to slide into stockings. You, the SMALLEST person, have the BIGGEST stocking because you have such a pile of gifts. It’s big enough for a giant. Theo put out apples and carrots for the reindeer. Jo stayed at the hospital.

  Aunt says we must go to bed. And I want to. It will make Christmas morning co
me faster. But it is hard to settle down. That is why I am writing to you.

  Merry Christmas Eve, Benjamin.

  Christmas Day

  Saturday, December 25, 1920

  Dear Ben,

  Joy to the world! The Lord is come.

  What a mixed-up, marvellous day! To think I was afraid it would be horrible. Theo woke us all up before it was light outside. He came for me and Fanny first and then we fetched you out of your crib. You were surprised to see us, but when we began to sing “Away in a Manger” you grinned and put up your arms to be lifted out. Then we got Aunt and Father and we were heading for the stairs when a sleepy voice called, “Wait for me, you lot!” Jo had come home in the night to be here to open her stocking. Carrie was with her and Jo had managed to hang up a stocking for her, which was perfect.

  We all got silly things and nice things. I got a new book. I am always worried that Father and Aunt will forget I need a Christmas book — but they never have yet. It is T. Tembarom by Frances Hodgson Burnett. It is a grown-up love story! I have read almost half.

  Right after we had our Christmas breakfast, Theo went out “to play in the snow.” That was what he said. And then, Ben, you will never guess what he did. He went over to the street where we took the Christmas boxes and started playing with the children there, and when he came home, he was jumping up and down with glee. He knew the whole story of how the family found the boxes. The mother even sent Belinda running over to tell her sister — the woman Aunt talked to — and the whole bunch of them got together and had a wonderful feast.

  “That boy even liked the pyjamas,” Theo told Aunt.

  “They were the best pyjamas in the store,” Aunt said.

  Theo swore he did not even hint that he knew where the things had come from. He was so proud of himself for being such a detective.

  I thought he was great until he pulled out his new play sword and started running around giving us all “the mark of Zorro.” It is irritating. That sword does not cut but it sure bruises.

  Connie came over at around two. She wanted Fan to come out for a walk. I held my breath, Ben, but Fan was as smooth as a queen. “I’m sorry,” she said, “but we have company and Christmas is a family day. I’m busy tomorrow too. It’s Ben’s birthday and Margery James has invited me to go with her church group on a sleigh ride. I hope you have a merry Christmas.” Then, while Connie was kind of hissing through her teeth, Fan quietly closed the door.

  We read Dickens’s Christmas Carol tonight. We started before supper so Theo would be able to stay up for it. But he fell asleep on the rug in front of the fireplace, leaning up against Hamlet.

  Good night, Ben. You are almost a year old. This book will be finished tomorrow. I am going to miss writing to you.

  But I got a lovely diary book, a fat one with big creamy pages, from Aunt for Christmas. Your clever mother always knows what I will be wanting.

  Ben’s First Birthday

  Boxing Day, December 26, 1920

  Dearest Ben,

  You slept in! We were all waiting for you to wake us up early as usual and you didn’t. Finally Theo began making a rumpus. He sang “Happy Birthday!” at the top of his voice and rushed about, stomping his feet, and at last you opened your eyes. And I was watching from the door and you saw me and you said, you actually said, “Fee.” Then you said, “Fifi.” But you can call me “Fifi” if you like, my sweet Ben.

  Fan tried to get you to say “Fan,” but you didn’t. You didn’t say “Fifi” again either, but never mind. I know you will.

  You love your presents. And you walked another step before you plunked down on your bottom. Such a clever child.

  It was a lovely day from start to finish. Not one bit tangled. No frayed bits or ugly knots. I even told Fanny how jealous I had felt of Con when I began this book for you, and she gave me a tight hug.

  People came to your birthday party, Ben. It seems strange to celebrate Jesus’s birthday one day and yours the next. It is also strange to know that we will still be singing to the Little Lord Jesus when you are blowing out five candles, or ten, and you are not our “little lord Ben” any longer.

  But you will have this Birthday Book to remind you of how we felt when you were almost one and I wrote this for you and learned to love you with all my heart.

  Good night, little lord Ben. Goodbye, Ben’s Book.

  Love,

  Fifi

  Anya’s family was forced to spend part of World War I at Spirit Lake Internment Camp. They were regarded not only as foreigners but as “enemy aliens” who needed to be kept apart for Canada’s security. Poverty still dogs them, even though Anya’s factory job helps out. Yet this Christmas promises to be happier than last year in the isolated internment camp … if old resentments can be laid to rest.

  An Unexpected Visitor

  Monday, December 18, 1916

  Dear Irena,

  My supervisor gave me a few sheets from his ledger book, so I can finally write to you and let you know everything that’s been happening to me. I will keep these pages with me, and once I have filled them all I will mail them. Postage is so dear, after all. Write back when you are able. You are in my heart.

  I think the supervisor feels sorry for me because I am sitting by myself at lunch yet again. Now that I am promoted, the other girls make strange with me. I don’t mean Slava or Maureen. But since my promotion, we three no longer have lunch at the same time.

  We have this huge order of infantry uniforms and it makes my head ache. The material is coarser than the ladies’ blouses we usually sew, and the girls are not used to it. I cringe each time a needle pierces their fingertips. Only weeks ago, it was me at one of those machines.

  As sad as I am for the girls, I cannot help but think of what these uniforms are being used for. So many people are still being sent across the ocean to fight in this terrible war. And what of our old country, Irena? I know that fighting is going on right in Ukraine. Will a Canadian soldier wearing one of these uniforms end up fighting my old neighbours in Horoshova?

  The whistle has sounded. Must get back to work.

  Before bed

  Oy, Irena! Stefan showed me the coins he earned today! He sold all the scarves and every pair of mittens.

  I am relieved. The last weeks had not been going well for Stefan’s new business, but with Christmas near, it is picking up. He saves every penny he can.

  It is so crowded in our flat with Baba, Mama, Tato and Mykola, of course, but add to that, Slava (will her father ever come home?) and Stefan, plus his mother and father. When his older brothers come home from the war, we’ll be in a pickle. Where could they possibly sleep? At least with all these people, it’s nice and warm even on the coldest nights.

  Speaking of Stefan’s brothers, he got a Christmas card from Ivan — that’s the brother who calls himself John Pember. He is fighting in France. He decorated the card by stitching in patterns and words with red and green thread. He wrote in his regiment motto, Facta non verba, and also, Merry Christmas.

  I do not know what Facta non verba means.

  Tomorrow is St. Nicholas Day. I can hardly wait! I have special gifts for everyone.

  Tuesday, December 19, 1916

  St. Nicholas Day

  Mama asked Mrs. Haggarty. Facta non verba is Latin for “Actions, not words.” I like that motto, don’t you?

  Oh, Irena, Stefan has given me the most interesting gift. I cannot imagine how

  Wednesday, December 20, 1916

  I’m sorry, Irena. I had to end suddenly last night. It is difficult to find a time or place to write when I am at home. Once the mattresses are rolled out and the sheet strung across the middle of the room, I can barely move! The worst is when someone has to get up in the middle of the night to go to the outhouse. Stefan’s mother tripped on my foot last night and almost fell on top of Baba.

  Tato blew the lights out just as I was about to write down details of Stefan’s gift. It is just a small envelope with my name written on the
front in neat script, in green ink. Inside is a flat card that says this:

  You are cordially invited

  to Afternoon Tea

  with

  Mister Stefan Pemlych

  at

  The Restaurant

  at

  Ogilvy’s Department Store

  on

  Saturday, December 30, 1916

  at

  4 o’clock

  I could tell that Stefan wrote it himself, but it must have taken him a long time because penmanship is not his strength.

  Do you know what “Afternoon Tea” is, Irena? I thought it was a cup of tea in the afternoon, but Stefan says I am wrong — it does include tea but it isn’t what I think. Stefan just grins when I try to get him to tell me more. I can hardly wait until December 30!

  Thursday, December 21, 1916

  Irena, when I was coming home from work yesterday, I saw a man who must have once been a soldier. He was standing at the corner of a building, with his collar turned up against the cold. There was something familiar about the way he held himself. Don’t ask me why, but I knew he had been in the army even though he wasn’t wearing a uniform. He looked cold and lonely, and he was holding out his cap, begging for money. I walked quickly by without looking up. I had no money to give.

  Oy, Irena, do you think I’m a bad person for walking so quickly away?

  Friday, December 22, 1916

  Dear Irena,

  I am sitting here at work even though I should have left for home an hour ago. I keep on looking up at the windows and wondering how I will ever get home. The snowflakes are so thick and furious that I cannot see anything but white. The wind is so strong and damp that I can feel it in my bones. The supervisor let us stay inside because he was afraid we would get lost if we tried to get home. Maybe I will have to stay here all night. It is so dark outside.