He Knows…
The frost on the windows cheered my heart. It wouldn’t be long now. Tomorrow was Christmas! The thin tree in the parlor was beautifully decorated with paper chains and popcorn strings. Paper snowflakes adorned the windows while real ones accumulated outside. The sweet and spicy smell of gingerbread filled the house. Paul would sneak a frosted little man from the jar after breakfast, checking off one of his tasks from the List.
The List was well hidden behind the drawing of the Christmas Angel on Sally’s wall. We took it down late at night and made our tallies. Naughty or Nice. The balance must not be too close. Everyone had assigned tasks to keep the balance in our favor or our stockings wouldn’t be filled on Christmas morning. Even Joshua, who was only three, knew what he had to do. Things have to be done carefully; it wouldn’t count if mother knew what we were doing.
The kitchen was the warmest place in the house, so we all sat around the morning table. Sally dished up oatmeal and carefully rationing out the sugar, slipping herself two extra spoonfuls (one mark for her). Morgan brought in icy buckets of water, innocently tracking in snow and mud (a mark for him). I took two red, shiny apples from my coat pocket and put them on the table. Mother loves apples and Mr. O’Connor won’t miss them (a mark for me). Anne put a fork on Morgan’s chair and laughed when he sat on it (a mark for her). Joshua laughed with Anne and merrily tipped his bowl of oatmeal on the floor (a mark for him). Mother shooed us from the kitchen.
With only a few hours before Christmas we had to work hard to make it on St. Nicholas’s list. Morgan was to deliver groceries. Anne was helping Mother with the baking. Sally had choir practice at the church. And I was to keep out of the way. There was plenty of opportunity for us to fill in the List. The morning seemed to drag on forever. The puzzle was too hard and Joshy ate three pieces. I gathered up the dry pine needles from under the Christmas tree and played with the crispy pile until Mother called me for lunch. I hid the needles under the sofa.
We all had to dress up after lunch to visit our cousins. It was hard to sit still while Aunt Virginia rambled on about Peter’s perfect marks in school and Winnie’s role in the nativity play. The cake she gave us was too dry and the tea too sweet. Aunt Virginia asked Sally to sing. I really wanted to hit Peter when he laughed at Sally behind a pillow. None of us wanted to be there, but we sat and smiled sweetly. All that proper behavior was too much for us. On the walk home I jumped in a mud puddle and splattered Anne’s dress. She pushed me hard and knocked me against the chestnut cart. Morgan threw a snowball at Mr. Collins’ carriage. Only Sally, carrying Joshy, walked quietly next to Mother. The little brat made faces at passersby. The balance of our List was tipping.
After a quiet supper we sat around the parlor and listened to Father read the nativity story and we set each character from the story around the manger. We sang carols and drank eggnog. Before we were sent to our beds we hung our stockings from the fireplace mantle. After hugs, we climbed the stairs. We met in Sally’s room and took down the List. We tallied everything up. It would be close. Morgan and I went back to our room. We couldn’t resist jumping on the beds just a few times before sliding under the blankets. I could hear the girls giggling through the wall. Morgan promised he would stay up until St. Nicholas arrived. I couldn’t stay awake any longer.
I woke up to the church bells and pulled Morgan out of bed. Robes and slippers were pulled on and we ran to wake the girls. We all ran down stairs. Mother was already up, taking sweet rolls out of the oven. Father stamped the snow from his feet as he came through the back door. He smiled and held out five beautifully bright oranges. We cheered and ran to give him a Christmas hug. When Mother’s hands were free we gathered around her as well. With a kiss, she ushered us into the parlor.
The tree was lit with candles and seven neatly wrapped packages sat under the lowest boughs. We all ran to our stocking, which were bulging and lumpy. I peeked inside and smiled. I took my stocking to Father and held it out. Morgan, Anne, and Sally did the same. Baffled, Father took my stocking and looked at the gift St. Nicholas had left me. He glanced up with surprise and showed the stocking to Mother. Tears filled our parents’ eyes.
Joshua, free of Mother’s watchful eye, toddled to the fireplace. With a squeal, he pulled down his own stocking. The contents tumbled out around him. My tiny brother grinned happily and tried to take a bite of the lump of coal. Father laughed and picked Joshy up, not caring that the small hands were leaving black streaks on his dressing gown.
“Come, Martha,” Father said, carrying Joshy and the stockings to the fireplace. “We will have a warm Christmas this year, thanks to our naughty little children.”