Ben sat at his writing table, the pale sunlight streaming in through the windows. The beams caught the myriad of dust particles as in a yellow spotlight. The motes were stirred up mostly by Clara Munson, who vigorously pushed the vacuum cleaner over the carpet. For Clara the war against dirt was a personal thing, and she scowled at the carpet as if it were a flesh-and-blood enemy. From time to time she would call a truce with the dirt and cast a furtive glance toward her employer. Clara visualized herself as a psychologist, although she would not have called it that. It was her firm conviction that she understood people—not what was on the outside but what was on the inside. For three years now she had studied Benjamin Raines, and up until recently she was certain that she had him firmly classified.
Clara’s face turned itself into a frown, and finally she reached down and turned the vacuum cleaner off. As soon as the roar stopped, she could hear the song that Benjamin was singing. It was a Christmas carol and one she knew well, “Joy to the World, The Lord Has Come.”
Clara moved around until she could see Ben Raines’ face more clearly. The puzzlement that had begun to trouble her showed itself more plainly. He ain’t never sung no Christmas songs before. Not since I been here anyway, she thought belligerently. She saw he was smiling as his fingers moved over the computer keyboard, and he was swaying from side to side in tune to his own music.
Finally Clara could stand it no longer. “I don’t know what’s got into you. I never knew you to sing no Christmas song before.”
Ben grinned at his cleaning lady. It amused him to cause her to wonder about his behavior. He leaned back, locked his hands behind his head and arched his body, for he had been hunched over the computer a long time. He stretched, extending his arms, then nodded. “I’ve decided to participate in Christmas this year, Clara. I’m even going to give you a Christmas present. What would you like?”
Clara Munson stared at her employer. She did not like for people to step outside the mold that she created for them in her mind. Still, there was something pleasant about the way Ben Raines looked. “All you ever gave me before was a ten-dollar bill in a card.”
“I know. So this time I’m going to give you a present nice enough to make up for all the years I’ve missed.”
Clara was speechless. She knew very well that Ben Raines did not believe in Christmas or in very much of anything else. Still, as she tried to think of a remark that would put him in his place, nothing came to mind. Finally she sniffed, “Well, I suppose people can change.”
“They certainly can, Clara.”
“What made you change?”
Ben was tempted to launch into the story, but knew that he would have to give up working, for Clara would have to know every detail. She had a curiosity as long as a piece of rope, so he simply smiled at her and said, “I just discovered that I’d been missing a lot, so you think about that present.” He hit the save button on his computer, got to his feet, and said, “I’ve got to go down to the office.”
“You want me to come in Christmas Day?”
“Come in on Christmas Day! I should say not! The very idea.” Ben walked over and suddenly put one arm around Clara and squeezed her. “That’s no way to spend Christmas, and right now I wish you a Merry Christmas, Clara.” He laughed for no reason, then plucked his coat off the coat rack and slipped it over his shoulders. “Merry Christmas! Ho! Ho! Ho!” He stepped outside, and Clara stood staring at the door he had closed behind him. She tried to think of some explanation for all this, and finally she said, “He don’t seem like he’s taken to drinkin’. I wonder if men go through a change of life like women do.”
She pondered that for a moment, then her brow wrinkled up. “Well, we’ll see if it lasts. That’s what we’ll do.” She walked over and threw the switch on the vacuum cleaner and began pushing it vigorously back and forth across the carpet.
* * *
Ben locked his car and walked rapidly down the street toward the newspaper office. He passed no fewer than three Salvation Army red pots hanging from black tripods and all watched over by the Salvation Army folk. Each time he stopped, pulled his billfold out, and extracted a five-dollar bill. The two ladies and the one man that guarded the treasure looked surprised and said with considerable enthusiasm, “Thank you, sir! Merry Christmas to you.”
“A Merry Christmas to you,” Ben had given back to each.
As he approached the door that housed the newspaper, he encountered Nick Farrell coming out. “Merry Christmas, Nick,” he said.
Farrell was a tall, thin man, a sports writer, and he had the stub of a cigar in his mouth. There was talk that he had been born with it in his mouth, for no one ever saw him without it. He chewed on it for a moment then nodded. “You’re feeling chipper.”
“It’s Christmas, Nick.”
“It always is this time of year.”
“You done all your shopping yet?”
“No. I let my wife take care of all that.”
“You shouldn’t. You ought to do it yourself. Get into the spirit of Christmas.”
“Is this Benjamin Raines I see before me? Is this the guy that every year gripes about the commercialism of Christmas? I think not. It must be Benjamin’s body taken over by an alien and trying to act like a regular fellow.”
“Not at all, Nick. It’s just that I feel mighty good this year.”
“Good for you. I’ll give you my Christmas list, and you can go take care of it. Better still, you can write my story for me.”
“Hey, I’ll do that. Of course, I don’t know much about sports.” His eyes suddenly danced, and he said, “Did you hear the story about the sportswriter that was given the assignment of writing an obituary?”
“No, but if they gave it to me, I wouldn’t do it.”
“Well, everybody else was out of town, and this lady died. He tried to get out of it, but his editor insisted. So, he wrote her obituary in the form of a poem. Want to hear the poem?”
“I think I’m about to.”
“Here it is:
Here lie the bones of Nancy Jones;
For her death held no terrors.
She lived an old maid; she died an old maid:
No hits—no runs—no errors.”
Nick suddenly laughed. “That’s pretty good. I’ll remember that.”
“Your family doin’ good, Nick?”
It was the first time Ben had ever asked about his family, and Nick nodded. “Yeah, they’re doing fine.”
“Good. Well, got to get to work. Have a glorious Christmas.”
Nick stared at Ben as he disappeared inside the building and finally shook his head. “What’s got into Ben? He never acted peculiar before.”
Ben encountered several of his fellow reporters and greeted them all with a hearty Merry Christmas. He did the same with the clerks and secretaries and stopped by his boss’s office. He saw Sal working furiously, his brow furrowed up. Opening the door, he said, “Hey, boss!”
Sal looked up and frowned. “What do you want?”
“Just wanted to say Merry Christmas.”
“Never mind that stuff. How’s that story coming? I’ve got to have it pretty soon.”
“Going to be the best Christmas story you ever heard.”
As Raines turned and went down the hall whistling “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer,” Sal watched him go. “I think he needs a vacation. He’s going nutty on me.”
* * *
Willie was taken aback as Ben came through the door. His son’s face lit up, and he came up and gave Willie a hug. It caught Willie off guard. Ben was not given to gestures of affection like this. “How are you doing, Dad?”
“Fine, Ben. What have you been up to?”
“Oh, the same old stuff. I just came by to talk to you.”
“Sit down.”
Willie watched, aware that something was bubbling over inside Ben’s spirit. He was all he had left in the world, his only relative, and it had grieved him that Ben turned out to be so negative toward the world around him. Now he saw something working in him, and he said, “What’s going on?”
“I just wanted to give you a report on Billy Bob. Charlene and I had a great visit with him.”
“He’s doing good? That’s great. I always liked Billy Bob. We keep in touch, you know.”
“He told me. I brought a letter for you from him.” He took the envelope out and said, “He said to wish you a Merry Christmas.”
A fond look came into Willie’s eyes. “He was always up to something. I never knew a fellow could scrounge like he would. The rest of the company would be starving to death, and Billy Bob would come in with a rabbit or a chicken, something that he had scrounged. We always shared it no matter how little it was.”
“Well, he thinks highly of you. Did you know he won the Congressional Medal of Honor?”
“Oh sure, I knew about that. He never talks about it himself, though.”
“No. His wife told me. She’s a fine lady. They’ve got a fine family.” He talked about their visit with Billy Bob, and finally his eyes lit up. “I’ve got something else to tell you, Dad.”
“What’s that?”
“We had engine trouble coming back. I thought the plane was going down.”
“Well, it didn’t, did it? You’re here.”
“No, it didn’t, but I thought it was. It shook me up, Dad, and when we finally landed, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.” Ben’s face grew serious, and he sat very still on the chair across from his father. “I know you haven’t been happy with the way I’ve lived my life. To tell you the truth, I haven’t been happy either. But when I thought I was going to die, it changed something, Dad. It made me think in a way nothing ever had.”
Ben went on to tell how he had been so shaken that he could hardly speak, and then he said, “Charlene talked to me about becoming a Christian. I guess it was my time, Dad.” His face lit up, and he reached out and squeezed his father’s hand. “Because that’s what I did. I just called on the Lord, and ever since that time I’ve been different.”
Tears came into Willie’s eyes. He was not a man that showed emotion like this much, but he put his hand over Ben’s and cleared his throat. “That’s . . . that’s the best news I ever heard, Ben.”
The two men sat there, their hands intertwined, and Benjamin Raines knew that things could never be the same between him and his dad again.
The two talked for awhile, and finally Ben said, “I’ve got one more flight with Charlene—to Florida to interview Roger Saunders.”
“I’ve been out of touch with Roger. He moves around a lot. Give him my best and wish him Merry Christmas.”
“I’ll do that, Dad. When I come back, we’re going to have the best Christmas you ever thought about.” He reached over again and hugged his father, and when he left, Willie Raines moved over to the window. When Ben came out and headed for the parking lot, Willie’s eyes followed him. He reached down, got his handkerchief, and wiped his eyes and whispered, “Lord, it’s been a long wait, but I thank You for saving my boy!”