Chapter 24

The Christmas Play

Since I couldn’t talk to Daddy right there, right then, I talked to him another way—in a letter:

Dear Daddy,

I ride my bicycle up and down the paths all around Grandma’s house. Johnny rides on the bar behind my seat. Saturday, we bundled up in coats, mittens and toboggans and pedaled through spitting snow to the post office. When the postmaster said we didn’t have a letter, we rode over to Wilson’s Grocery. I helped Mom dust the shelves, and Mr. Wilson gave me a quarter when I finished. I bought peanuts for Johnny and me and put fifteen cents in my memory box for a savings bond stamp.

On the way home, the snowflakes plumped up, ready for business. I pedaled harder and blew a cloud with each breath. Johnny squealed, squirmed and stuck out his tongue to catch a few flakes. As big as his mouth is, he probably caught a whole snowman’s worth. By the time we reached Grandma’s, the ground had turned white. I whacked Johnny with a snowball. He whacked me back. We whizzed and whacked snowballs until Mom came home. Early Sunday morning, we jumped out of bed ready for round two, but the snow had melted during the night.

Guess who is going to be an angel in the Christmas play at school? If you guessed me, your Gracie Girl, you’re whistling Dixie. I’m going to wear a fancy dress and drift across the stage. Guess who is going to be a lamb? Yep, Johnny. We practice each day at school. Johnny can baaaaaa with the best of them. Everyone in Ashland is coming to see us, almost everyone. The program is on Christmas Eve at school. Mrs. Howard said that most years the school has a program and the church has a different program, but since the church needs some repairs, there will be only one program this year. I’ll be an angel for real at seven o’clock, and Johnny will be baaaaaaing like no lamb I’ve ever heard. I hope you can be there.

You should see our dazzling Christmas tree. Mr. Wick brought it to us. Johnny and I strung a popcorn garland and wrapped it around the branches from the tip on down. We had to pop extra popcorn, because someone, who Santa has been watching all year long, crammed more in his mouth than he strung. Grandma snapped a picture of the tree with her camera so you can see how beautiful it is.

Spot said RUFF, RUFF! That’s dog talk for “We miss you.”

I love you,

Gracie Girl

Every time I asked Mom when she thought we would hear from Daddy, she said to think positive.

“Be brave,” Grandma always said. “We have to keep our spirits up. We have to have gumption.”

Thinking positive was hard to do when we didn’t know where Daddy was or why he didn’t write to us anymore. Uh oh! Mom and Grandma would say that’s not a positive thought. Back up and start over. I decided it was time for a little chat with Spot.

“We will hear from Daddy soon,” I told Spot as we sat on the steps. A pumpkin moon hung high in the sky and glowed, showing off on the naked branches of a maple tree.

Spot wagged his tail. That’s dog talk for “You’re right, we’ll get a letter soon.”

Spot believed me. I wondered how I could make myself believe it.

I kissed Spot goodnight and walked back into the house.

“Gracie Girl,” Mom said. “We need to talk about your angel dress.”

“I’ll look like a real angel, Mom,” I said, “in my fancy, frilly dress.”

“My sweet Grace,” Mom said. “You’ll look like an angel, no matter what you wear. I don’t have any fancy, frilly fabric, and with the war shortage, I can’t buy it. You can wear your white summer dress with a white sweater. You’ll be the perfect angel.”

I wanted to look like a real angel, a real fancy angel. My white summer dress was plain. My white sweater was plainer. Tears lobbed up in my eyes, and I swallowed hard. I knew Mom was trying her best, so I tried to think positive.

Mom walked with me to my bed. She told Johnny and me a bedtime story, about a time when she and Daddy went horseback riding and the horse split a creek wide open, splashing them both from head to toe. I watched Mom smile as she remembered her time with Daddy. She finished the story and kissed us goodnight.

I didn’t go to sleep right off, but Johnny did. I could tell by the sound of his even breaths. When I did finally go to sleep, I dreamed I floated across the stage in a fancy white dress that was so beautiful the audience gasped when they saw me. A little while later, I woke up and cried myself back to sleep.

At school, Mrs. Howard hung sheets on wires in the cafeteria to block off an area for the stage. The sheets reminded me of Grandma’s clothesline. Every day, we practiced our play. I practiced my angelic glide, and Johnny baaaaaaed enough for a herd of sheep.

We belted out five Christmas carols to start the program. Carolyn and Vickie had speaking parts in the play, but Janie and I just drifted across the stage. That suited me fine. At the end of each practice, Mrs. Howard and Miss Eversole said we performed a stage-worthy production.

When I woke up in the night on December 23, I tiptoed through the house on my way to the kitchen to get a drink of water. As I passed Mom’s room, I heard a faint noise. At first, I thought Mom was crying. I slowed down and listened. Mom was doing something, but I couldn’t tell what. Then the cuckoo clock piped CUCKOO! CUCKOO! CUCKOO! What in tarnation was Mom doing up at three o’clock in the morning? I didn’t dare knock on her door and ask because she would want to know the same thing about me.

On Christmas Eve morning, the sun climbed the sky between red clouds. The mercury in the thermometer hung at a teeth-chattering thirty-five degrees.

“Snow weather,” Grandma declared as she peeked out between the red-and-white checked kitchen curtains. “Likely as not, we’ll have us a white Christmas.”

Mom yawned as she added a log to the cook stove and mixed up a tasty batch of pancake batter. To show our appreciation, Johnny scarfed down five saucer-sized pancakes, and I chomped down the win with six.

“Mrs. Howard called today’s practice a dress rehearsal,” I said to Mom. “I need to wear the outfit I’ll wear tonight.”

“I’ve got it laid out for you in the parlor,” Mom said.

In Grandma’s parlor, I pulled on my plain white dress and even plainer white sweater. Some angel I’ll be. Mom had made Johnny a white lamb costume out of the same material. So that’s what Mom was doing last night.

Johnny wiggled and squirmed as Mom helped him tug on the lamb suit. He would have had it on in half the time, but he baaaaaaed with every breath.

Mom and Grandma smiled at his antics. If they had listened to as much baaaaaing as I had, they wouldn’t have found him so funny.

A few minutes later, Johnny and I headed out to school for one last practice before the big performance tonight. Mom walked with us as far as Wilson’s Grocery.

At school, I swayed across the stage as we sang Christmas carols. Mrs. Howard told me that I made all my entrances at the right time. She and Miss Eversole bragged on everyone, even Johnny.

On the way home, we stopped at Wilson’s Grocery. Mr. Wilson handed Johnny and me taffy bars and wished us a Merry Christmas. I ran over to the post office and checked on the mail. No letter.

Johnny and I walked on home. I spent the afternoon reading Mary Poppins. Johnny played with his toy truck.

As soon as Mom came home, we ate supper. I washed the dishes and Johnny dried them, baaaaaing with each swipe of the dish towel. Mom walked into the kitchen and said, “Kiddos, it’s showtime. Get fancied up in your costumes.”

I walked into our bedroom to the chifferobe where had I hung my plain white dress and even plainer sweater after play practice today. As I reached to open the cabinet door, Mom called out, “Grace, your dress is in the parlor.”

I hustled back through Grandma’s house. I entered the parlor, and my mouth dropped open. A fancy dress, all frilly and white, was draped across the settee, pretty as you please. I reached out and touched the fancy garment to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. Where did this come from? I wondered. Then I remembered Mom’s late-night work in her bedroom, and I recognized the lace from Mom’s wedding gown.

I tried on the most beautiful dress in the history of the world—my angel dress. I strutted across the parlor to Grandma’s braided oval rug, where I twirled and then upped it a notch to a whirl. My fancy dress swirled along with me.

I heard Mom call, “Time to get the show on the road,” so I sashayed a few steps, strutted some and high stepped more out to the Hudson, wishing Daddy could see me now.