This is inspired by one of my favorite Christmas stories, "The Gift of the Magi" by O. Henry, written in 1906. Times have changed, some situations have not, and Love endures for generations.
Merry Christmas!
~ ESA
Merry Christmas!
~ ESA
Tom and Betty lived with their two daughters in a small Pennsylvania town of Simpson. When they both had jobs, life was grand. They had a little money for a family vacation to the lake, enough to cover the gas on the ATV and even a weekly family walk down the road to McGee's for some ice cream each Sunday.
This year, however, wasn't such a good year. Tom lost his job and increases in rent, gas, food and utilities pinched hard. They didn't have the funds to cover the girl's school pictures in September. It was now December and Christmas was around the corner. They scraped up enough to get the girls a little something, but they were both at a loss of what to get for each other.
An idea blossomed for Betty at one of the firehouse fundraisers. Another volunteer, old Mick, was retiring and looking to sell his light bar. "That would look awesome on Tom's truck!" she exclaimed. "How much?"
Mick shuffled his feet and looked away a moment. The family's finances were no secret in this small town. "I'll be honest with you Betty," he replied once more meeting her gaze. "It cost me a pretty penny. And now that Elizabeth and I are retired, we need the money too. I know I can get at least $150 for it online or at the flea market..."
Betty's face fell.
At the look on her face, Mick's heart gave way to an idea. "Look, Betty. I'll make you a deal. I'll keep it out back until Christmas day. If you somehow get the money, it's yours. If not, I can wait until the New Year to sell it."
Betty was hesitant. But it would look so fine on Tom's pick-up truck. He never missed a call... "OK, Mick" she agreed with a sharp nod. Betty extended her hand; a handshake with your word was as good as a signed contract in this area.
Mick shook her hand with a small smile. "I'll keep you in my prayers, too, Betty. I know Tom would love to have it for his truck."
When Betty got home after the fundraiser, she hurried to her sock drawer and counted out the remainder of the money she saved all year... just shy of $50. "Where am I going to get the rest of the money?" she asked the sober reflection in the mirror.
The next day was Sunday, and following tradition, the family bundled up after Church and walked down the Main Street that afternoon. While McGee's was closed for the season, they still walked down that road, looking in shop windows along the way. Part of the tradition was a stop at the local pawn shop.
Each week, the family would gather around the "new arrivals" case and try to guess which one of their neighbors had previously owned the items.
"Hey, Mom, that look's like Aunt Christine's locket," one the girls cried pointing to a tarnished locket at the back of the case.
Immediately Betty was there, with her warm breath fogging the glass. She brusquely wiped aside the fog with her sleeve and peered again. "It... it IS her locket..." She turned to Tom with tears welling in her eyes, "That's my great-grandma's locket. Christine got it when Mom died and I got the chain that went with it."
She brushed aside the tears as she turned to face the locket again. There it sat, sad and silent in a case, disembodied from the family. Her great-grandmother's picture faded under the case's lights.
Without thinking, Betty hurried to the shop owner. "That locket in your case, how much?"
The man turned with a knowing look on his face. "That there's a genuine family heirloom. Your own family, if I don't know any better. Your sister turned it in this past week. Said she needed the money more."
"I know where it came from. How much?"
A devilish grin turned the corners of his mouth, but a smile never touched his eyes. "I was planning to e-Bay that piece when I got the time to take the digital photos. If I can get the historical documents, it can fetch me a pretty penny for any who deal with antiques such as these... Perhaps I can find a buyer from Philadelphia... Or a museum or such in New York..."
Frustrated as she knew the price would be too much for their meager income, she turned away without the answer. Tom embraced her shoulders in his strong arm and ushered their two girls from the store in silence.
When Betty went to work on Monday, Tom walked back to the pawn shop and approached the man. "OK. You know what I'm here for. How much do you want for it?"
The man smiled from behind the counter. "Twenty bucks will take it off display for thirty days. I can not guarantee that I'll hold it any longer than that."
"What is your asking price?" Tom pressed, all business.
"You really can't afford it, Tom. I know you're out of work."
"Spit it out."
"Seven hundred dollars."
"Bull."
"I can get more at an auction."
"You can't and we both know it. This isn't Betty who's talking to you now."
The man hesitated and shuffled his feet a moment. Then he quickly regained his poise, looked Tom in the eye, "Five hundred."
The bartering began. In the end, Tom shook the man's hand at the final agreement.
Betty had not been inactive that week, herself. She smuggled many of her little treasures into work and sold them to co-workers during the lunch break. She counted the money that Saturday: $105. She needed forty-five dollars more. "Where will I get forty-five bucks more with Christmas in three days?" she asked the woman in the mirror.
Then her eyes fell to the antique chain that was once owned by her great-grandmother. She never forgot that her sister had sold away the matching locket. It disappeared from the case right after that. "He made good on his word," she muttered to the woman in the mirror. "It's long gone."
Gingerly, she picked up the gold necklace. "What good is the chain without its locket?" she asked the sad face in the mirror. "If I get the light bar for Tom's truck, it will keep him safe when he races off like a madman for each call..." She slipped the chain in her pocket.
The next day, she drove down Route 6 to the local flea market before Church and found a buyer for the necklace, eagerly accepting $50 for it.
On the way back, she swung by the Old Mick's house and handed him the full $150 in cash. He stared at it as if he held a miracle in his hands. "I don't know how you did it, Betty. I really don't. But I couldn't be happier to sell it to you and Tom. I know he'll take good care of it for me."
"Do me a favor, Mick. Tom will be out with the girls Christmas Eve to walk around downtown Carbondale and look at the lights. It's when I wrap up the girl's gifts. Can you swing by the house around seven and drop off the light bar then? We can tuck it into the shed out back until Christmas morning. The kids and Tom will be so surprised!"
Mick's face lit up in a grand mischievous smile. "Of course, I can do that for old friends, Betty." They shook hands and then he pulled her into a warm hug. "Merry Christmas, Betty. Merry Christmas."
Christmas morning, dawned bright. In fact, by dawn the girls had already unwrapped the treasures found under the tree and were happily playing with their new gifts, meager though they were.
Betty was in the kitchen surrounded by the sounds and scents of brewing coffee and cooking pancakes. There was no bacon this year, but it didn't matter. There was a house full of Love and Joy this morning. And there was a surprise outside in the shed.
Her hand paused in flipping the pancakes when she heard the truck start up outside. She didn't recall hearing the alarm from the dispatch on the fire-fighter's scanner...
She removed the pan from the heat and stepped through the doorway into the small living room. Shock numbed her as she saw Tom standing there at the front door and the truck -- his TRUCK -- was driving away.
Tom stood for a moment more as he sadly watched the truck drive down the road and disappear onto Main Street. Then he turned toward Betty and wordless extended a small package - beautifully wrapped - toward her. "Merry Christmas, Betty. I know this means the world to you..."
She set down the cooling pan on a plate and accepted the package in shaking hands. "What... What's in it?"
Tom gave her a loving smile and hugged her shoulders, "Why don't you open it and find out, silly?"
Tears streamed down her cheeks as she undid the ribbon and tore open the wrapping paper. The girls gathered around curiously. There in the box lay her great-grandmother's locket. It shone in the lights of the Christmas tree beside them.
She turned in Tom's arms and sobbed into his shoulder. "Oh TOM! You shouldn't have. You really shouldn't have! We can't afford this!"
"I know we didn't have the money, Betty. So I traded my old truck for it. I just got job at the local factory up the street and I can walk there. It won't pay much, but at least we won't have to pay for that old truck... And Billie next door said he'll take me with him on the fire calls, so all will be OK. Trust me... we'll be OK."
She pulled her face away from his shoulder and looked into his loving eyes. There was such a question on his face that she only knew one way to answer. Wordlessly, she gently took his hand, led him through the kitchen and out the back door.
Standing in snow up to their calves, she gestured toward the shed. He could see from the imprint in the snow that someone had opened the shed door recently; the door's arc and footprints were clear in the snow.
Curious, he opened the door...
Inside was Old Mick's light bar, polished and shining, complete with a bright red bow on the top of it. Tom's head hung down wordlessly as he tried to take it in. Here was a gift he cherished, moreso as it came from an old friend who worked with him through countless calls over the years. Now it was his, to ride atop a truck... that he no longer owned.
He quietly closed the shed door and turned toward Betty. With shining eyes he asked, "How?"
Betty started sobbing again, hands clenched around the box and it's precious locket inside. "I... I sold a few of my things, Tom... ...including my great-grandmother's chain. I... I thought that old coot had sold the locket away and we'd never see it again. So I... I sold it at the flea market."
Tom swept his wife into a fierce embrace. "I love you Betty. I love you so much. Here we are a couple of fools trying to get the best gifts we could for each other. I can't ask for a better gift on Christmas than having you for a wife."
Betty hugged him back, equally fierce. "I love you too, Tom, so very much. We ARE a pair of fools, but we've got our girls and each other. I couldn't ask for anything else this Christmas."
Arm-in-arm, they walked back to the back door. Smiling once again in the glow of their mutual love. Inside, two girls peeked out through the kitchen window, wondering what was going on.
There was still The Christmas Story to read, and other stories to tell. This would be one too, to be shared for generations to come.
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