Chapter 13:

Trees

“…He said, ‘It is more blessed to give than to receive.’”

Acts 20:35 (NKJV)

Elizabeth couldn’t contain her joy. She giggled and laughed, and so did Dinky. They thought it was wonderful having Miss Patsy and Uncle J.T. together and all of them having fun.

The snow got deeper the further they drove on the logging road. J.T. didn’t let on, but he was concerned. He hadn’t counted on such big snow drifts. The kids would be disappointed if they had to turn back. He would make a decision after they got the groceries delivered. Once they were on the hill, he could see further up the road and better assess the situation.

J.T. gunned his pickup and drove right to Mr. Tabor’s house without a problem. The old fellow heard the truck engine and walked, with his cane, to the front door to see who in the world had made it up his hill in spite of all the snow.

“Well, ’pon my honor,” he exclaimed with a toothless grin as he stepped outside, “thought I’s gonna have to go without my coffee a day or two.”

“Not if we could help it, Mr. Tabor,” J.T. answered as he got out of the truck. He stepped up on the running board, reached over into the truck bed, and handed Miss Patsy some things to carry in. He’d get the rest.

“Well, come in, come in,” Mr. Tabor motioned with one hand, “and bring them youngins too.” He always loved children and could see Elizabeth and Dinky as he peered down through the windshield.

“Let’s all go in for a while, guys,” J. T. instructed. “And Bethie, bring that picnic bag.” Elizabeth and Dinky followed J.T. and Miss Patsy into the old man’s house.

J.T. continued on into the kitchen and sat Miss Patsy’s delivery on the table before returning to the living room.

“Mr. Tabor, this is my niece Bethie and my nephew Davis.”

“Hello. Welcome. Welcome. Nice to meet ya. Take your coats off, youngins, and set down a bit.”

“Glad to see you, Mr. Tabor.” Patsy leaned over and gave the little old man a hug.

The small house was surprisingly charming, extremely warm, and clean. An old sofa sat against the longest wall, directly across from the roaring fireplace. It was covered with a large handmade wedding ring quilt.

A double bed with a huge mahogany headboard in the only bedroom of the house was visible from the living room. It, too, was made up neatly with a quilt handmade by the late Mrs. Tabor. She had won several awards for her creations and had taught Grace Barton many things.

There were no other bedrooms in the house. The Tabors had built their house by hand and decided to add a bedroom each time they had a child. Sorrowfully, there had been two miscarriages and a stillbirth. They never had the need for another bedroom.

A rocking chair in the middle of the room faced a small TV, which was perched atop a wooden table under the front window. Old sepia-colored photographs of people from long ago in heavy oval frames hung on the walls around the room. There were women with high collars and hair piled high on their heads and men with handlebar mustaches and slicked-down hair with middle parts.

More recent photographs that were in color but still looked old sat around the room on side tables and the mantel.

“Mr. Tabor, how are you, sir? I’ve been meaning to come visit you for the longest time.” J.T. was apologetic. Mr. Tabor and his late wife were good friends with Pop and Grammy for years. Many times, he sat quietly and listened while they all visited and shared stories about growing up together.

“Well, sometimes I feel pretty bad. But the good Lord’s seen fit to leave me here for a while longer, so I try not to complain. Glad to have some company today.”

“We sure are glad to visit ya,” J.T. said happily.

“I brought your pain reliever, too, Mr. Tabor,” said Miss Patsy loudly so he could hear.

“Oh, thank you, darlin’. You’re a good girl.” He reached over and patted her arm. She smiled at him sweetly, feeling an almost familial connection to him.

“So nice when Patsy comes to visit,” he said, smiling at her.

While the grownups talked, Elizabeth and Dinky looked around the room.

“Oh my Gosh! Dinky, look!” Elizabeth whispered, astonished as she picked up a double picture frame off the end table. On one side, there was a print of an old hippie standing by a Corvette and a picture of a young girl that looked like Miss Patsy on the other side. The young man had a wide mustache, long bushy hair, and he wore a leather vest with no shirt underneath.

“It’s that heeven and Miss Patsy!” Dinky whispered back.

“I know. Couldn’t be the same one. Could it? And that couldn’t be Miss Patsy. This picture is older than she is.” Elizabeth was puzzled.

Dinky shrugged his small shoulders and started for Mr. Tabor’s cat.

“I’m gonna put us on some coffee if you don’t mind. Then, I’m going to fix you some lunch. I brought you some soup,” Miss Patsy said on her way to the kitchen where J.T. had set the box on the small table.

“She takes good care of me,” the old man said, beaming. “She’s a good Christian woman. Reminds me of my sister Kate—somethin’ about her does. ”

“She’s one in a million,” J.T. said, then he pointed to the sofa for the kids to sit down. “Won’t ya stay and have some soup with me?”

“Well, Mr. Tabor, I believe we will,” J.T. answered quickly. He knew Pop’s friend was all alone in the world and would enjoy some company. “As a matter of fact, I think we have some sandwiches to throw in with that soup.”

“Oh, boy,” said the old man, happy that his invitation had been accepted, “and don’t that coffee smell good?” Miss Patsy had just opened the can in the next room. “Coffee always smells better than it tastes. Don’t ya think?”

“Yes, sir, but most of the time, it sure does taste good, too,” J.T. replied as he took off his coat and hat.

“I know it, I know it,” Mr. Tabor repeated while grinning and shaking his head. His eyes twinkled merrily.

Miss Patsy could hear their conversation from the kitchen while she heated up the vegetable soup. She knew J.T. was trying to make a lonely old man feel not so lonely today. They were reminiscing now about Mr. and Mrs. Barton. She felt privileged to hear their memories.

“Elizabeth, would you like to come in and help me set the table?” Miss Patsy knew her little friend must feel out of place in the living room with the men. Mr. Tabor’s big gray cat, Smokey, was keeping Dinky busy on the sofa.

“Sure, Miss Patsy.”

“So, you’ve got some sandwiches in that tote bag you want to share?”

Elizabeth took six sandwich bags out of the tote and laid them on the table.

“Yes, and I have some Christmas cookies, too.”

“Oh, great. How perfect! We’ll have a little Christmas party. Look! Look at what I brought Mr. Tabor.” Her eyes sparkled as she pulled a narrow box out of one of the bags.

“It’s a little fiber optic Christmas tree. It has lots of different colored lights that twinkle. Do you think he’ll like it? And look, I bought some little ornaments for it and a small star for the top.”

“We’ll set it right in the middle of the table, so he can’t miss it when he walks in.” Miss Patsy was very happy to do something special for her elderly friend.

The diminutive tree came out of the box easily with its own small stand. Both pieces, once put together, stood about eighteen inches tall. She flipped the switch, and colored lights started to brighten, then dim, then brighten again. Red, blue, green, and yellow lights came on and went off intermittently.

“Ooh, how pretty,” Elizabeth sighed.

“Look in these bags, Bethie.” Miss Patsy had never called her that before. Only Uncle J.T. and her mom called her Bethie, but she didn’t mind. “I’ve brought him Christmas candy and tangerines. I just wanted to do something special for him, ya know?” She had already put away his bread, ground meat, raisin bran, milk, bacon, and eggs.

“I know,” Elizabeth acknowledged. She thought her friend had a heart of gold, and she seemed to love everybody and everything, unlike her mother, BevAnn.

“Elizabeth, here are two pretty plates to put your sandwiches and cookies on. Oh, those look so good.”

“Gee, Miss Patsy,” Elizabeth exclaimed as she stood back and looked at the table, “that really looks nice and Christmas-y.”

“Well, let’s get them in here and get this show on the road then,” Miss Patsy smiled.

“Smellin’ good in there,” J.T. yelled.

“Then come and get it!” Miss Patsy was anxious to see the look on Mr. Tabor’s face when he spied the little tree.

“Well, ’pon my honor,” he exclaimed as he shuffled slowly through the kitchen door. “Ain’t that purty?”

“Here, everybody’s got to put a little decoration or two on it before we eat. And Mr. Tabor, you put the star on top,” Miss Patsy directed.

“Well, ain’t that somethin’,” said the old fellow as he grinned and shook his head in disbelief that he would ever have a Christmas tree again. “And look at them cookies. Don’t they look good!”

Elizabeth smiled.

“Just one problem,” said J.T. “We’re short a chair for the table.”

“Grab a plastic one off the back porch there, son,” Mr. Tabor instructed him as he put the miniature silver star on the top of the twinkling tree.

J.T. stepped outside to get a chair. He walked over to the left side of the old man’s porch, where he could see the upper end of the logging road, which was covered with snow drifts three and four feet high. He knew he couldn’t run the risk of getting stuck in those. As bad as he hated to, he was going to have to tell the kids they couldn’t go any further today.

But, surprisingly, there was an astounding view of Spirit Creek Farm’s south ridge slope from this vantage point. From where he was standing, he could see practically every acre of his tree farm below. He spent a few seconds looking at it before he shivered, grabbed the chair, and went back into the kitchen.

“Pop would have been proud of my tree farm down there, Mr. Tabor,” J.T. said as he sat the chair down beside Miss Patsy. Dinky and Elizabeth were putting the last of the ornaments on the tree.

“Oh, he was, son, he was. Proud of your Christmas trees and your fruit trees,” Mr. Tabor answered. “Bragged on ya all the time. Said ‘that J.T. really knows his trees.’”

J.T. beamed with pride, scratched his head, and smiled at Miss Patsy. She thought she saw his eyes mist over a bit.

“Mr. Tabor, I’m sure you want to say grace,” Miss Patsy prompted her friend.

“Well, let’s all hold hands and say it together,” he insisted.

“God is great. God is good. And we thank Him for our food.

By His hands, we are fed. Give us, Lord, our daily bread.

Amen.”

“Amen, dig in,” Dinky added.

“Mr. Tabor,” J.T. said after lunch, “I wish you’d tell the kids and Miss Patsy here about the time your brother-in-law Bernie and his dad got that Model T back in the thirties.” J.T. knew Mr. Tabor loved telling stories about the good old days.

“Well, youngins,” said Mr. Tabor, not needing to be asked twice, “my brother-in-law Bernie, me and him was kids together; he married my sister Kate. Well, his pa, old man Andrews, was a real wheeler-dealer. One day he took ta wantin’ a automobile ’cause everybody else up along the crick where they lived had ’em for years, but he never had one hisself. Road a horse everywhere he went. This was back in, oh, about 1935.

“He told his boy Bernie ta come go with him they was goin’ in ta Hope Springs ta git a car. He knowed a old fellar that was gonna give ’em a right smart deal on one, and maybe Bernie could use it ta start peddlin’ eggs (they raised chickens) and make him a little extry cash.

“So they walked in ta town and looked over an old black 1922 Model T Ford that old feller had. It didn’t have no windows, of course, none of ’em did that was that old. And it didn’t have no top ’cept an old collapsible leather roof ya pulled up and over and attached ta the windshield or folded it back out of the way. But there was just one problem. That old car didn’t have a windshield. One was supposed ta set right straight up and down on top of the hood of that old car like a winda frame, but all the glass had been busted out, so the old feller that owned it just took the whole thing off. So that old car was open all the way ’round just like a old row boat.

“Now, Bernie’s pa walked around it and kicked the little skinny tires to make sure all the spokes was in the wheels. He looked it over real good like he know’d what he was a lookin’ at. Then, he asked the old man how much he wanted fer it. The old man thinks fer a minute and then says in a funny high-pitched voice, ‘Since it don’t have no windshield, just give me ten dollars, that’s all I got in ’er.’

“‘I’ll take ’er,’ says old man Andrews, who thought he was makin’ a right smart deal. But they was another problem. He didn’t know how ta drive. So, he say’s ta Bernie, ‘Boy you’re gonna have ta drive this derned thing home.’

“Well, Bernie’d never drove a car before neither, he was only twelve, but told his pa okay he’d give it a try. So, in hops old man Andrews in the front seat, and in hops Bernie behind the wheel (after he cranks ’er up) puts it in gear, and down the road they go.

“Now, the further they’d go, the more comfortable Bernie gets and starts ta feelin’ real proud that he’s drivin’ and picks up his speed til—heck, they go like he’s been drivin’ all his life.

“He was makin’ a purty good clip when all of a sudden he saw the crick crossin’. He forgot they’d have ta drive through the crick on the way home. But he wudn’t sure he knew how to drive through that water, although it wudn’t none too deep. Well, Bernie got skeert and panicked. He grabbed hard on ta that steerin’ wheel til his knuckles was white and hit those brakes so hard he practically stood that old car right on its nose.

“I asked him when he was tellin’ me about it, I said, ‘Bernie, then what happened?’

‘What happened? I’ll tell you what happened. Pa bounced up out a that seat and shot straight across the hood a that car like a frog and landed right in the middle of the crick.’”

“Oh, no,” shouted Miss Patsy, “did it kill him?”

“No,” said Mr. Tabor. “Old man Andrews just got up and shook hisself off, climbed back in that old car wet, and said, ‘Boy, let’s try that agin’. So, Bernie drove on right across that crick, and right on home they went.”

“And he went into the creek like a frog,” cackled Dinky along with everyone else at the table.

“And you know, ’pon my honor, that old Bernie peddled eggs for years out a that old car. Made enough money to put hisself through barber college. Moved to North Carolina and made a real good livin’.”

Everyone laughed even harder now.

“Oh, that’s too funny,” Elizabeth giggled, “and Bernie was only twelve.”

“I’d say Pa made a pretty good investment,” Miss Patsy declared, laughing and holding her stomach. This was the best day she could remember having in all her life. She’d never been so happy.

“He was a real wheeler-dealer,” J.T. said, slapping his knee and laughing so hard he wheezed.

“Pop always loved that story, Mr. Tabor.”

Mr. Tabor was grinning a wide toothless grin. His eyes were sparkling. He loved to make people laugh.

“Yeah, the funny thing—there Bernie was a barber, and his boy wouldn’t let him cut his hair. He ended up bein’ one of them famous rock’n’roll singers. Had hair clear down his back. Pete Andrews is his name. He used ta live in New York City, but he works outa Raleigh, North Carolina, now. He’s called me every week for the last thirty years. He’s a good boy.”

“Oh, I remember him,” Patsy exclaimed with excitement. “He was really good. I still hear his songs on the oldies station every now and then. I didn’t know he was your nephew. How exciting.”

“Used ta come stay with us some in the summers back years ago. Last time he stayed was summer of ’69. He’d got back from Vietnam in ’68, my sister Kate passed away, and he was real restless for a while. Had a lot to get off his mind, I suppose. He had a wife he was separated from, but he decided to go back to New York and try to make it work out, and it did. They were married for several years until she died of a really bad disease. Then, he took care of Bernie til he died back in ninety-eight.” Mr. Tabor looked lost in thought as he talked about his nephew. “He’s like a son to me. He’s a real good boy, always taking care of somebody else.”

“He slips in to see me every now and then. Keeps wanting me to move down south with him. Never wanted to leave home, but I think I’m gonna have to by next spring. Too old to stay alone anymore.”

“Sounds like a nice guy. We will miss you, Mr. Tabor, but you have to do what you have to do,” J.T. stated. He wondered why he’d never seen or heard of Pete Andrews before now.

“Was that him in the picture standing by that car, Mr. Tabor?” Elizabeth’s curiosity was making her bold.

“Yep, little missy. That’s him. Just looked like an old hippie, didn’t he?” Mr. Tabor laughed. “He’s worth several million dollars, but you’d never know it.”

“Can I see?” Miss Patsy got up and went to the living room to see Mr. Tabor’s famous nephew. Everybody followed her.

“I’ve never seen this picture before,” Patsy said as she looked closely at the young man in the picture. He looked so familiar. An old hippie… an old hippie… Something about that resonated through her mind. She’d heard it somewhere before.

“I just put it out there. Found it in a box yonder under the bed when I was lookin’ fer my house slippers. Been under there fer years.”

Elizabeth brought everyone’s attention to the young girl in the attached photo.

“Oh, look, Miss Patsy! It’s you. How old were you when this was taken?

“Bethie, that’s not me.”

“That’s my sister Kate when she was just a girl.” Mr. Tabor had noticed the resemblance, too. “I told you that you reminded me of her.”

“Yeah, I do kind of look like her.” Miss Patsy was puzzled because there was more than just a slight resemblance.

After lunch, she and Elizabeth cleaned up the kitchen. Then Dinky helped Mr. Tabor put his Christmas candy and tangerines in a box that he kept under his bed. Mr. Tabor insisted that Dinky and Elizabeth take a handful.

J.T. was sitting in the rocking chair that he’d turned towards the fire and was watching the glowing orange and red coals. He hated to disappoint the kids and Miss Patsy, but he couldn’t put off telling them any longer that the road was impassable.

“Well,” J.T. said as he cleared his throat, “I’m afraid the snow’s too piled up on the road to continue on to the tree farm.”

“Oh, no, Uncle J.T., we can’t see your Chrissum tree farm?” Dinky asked, somewhat devastated, sitting on the living room floor petting the cat. His face was getting red, and he was trying not to cry.

J.T. didn’t know what else to say. He kept staring into the fireplace.

“But how will we get us a Chrissum tree?” Dinky wanted to know. “And I was wantin’ to see a reindeer.”

“Well, little feller, I can’t do nothin’ ’bout that reindeer, but I can show ya where there’s some mighty purty little Christmas trees just waitin’ to be cut down, taken home, and decorated.” Mr. Tabor grinned at Dinky and patted him on the head. Dinky smiled back at him with renewed hope.

That got J.T.’s attention, and he stood up out of the rocking chair. “Really, where’s that, Mr.Tabor?”

“Just off the right side of m’back porch and up the hill a little ways. I set some Douglas firs out a few years ago ta keep my hillside from slippin’. It’d tickle me to death if ya’d get one of ’em.”

“Kids, get your coats on—we’re gettin’ us a Christmas tree today, after all,” J.T. beamed with joy. “Let’s rock’n’roll!”

“Yeah, let’s rock’n’roll,” mimicked Dinky.

“They’s an axe laying on the porch near the washin’ machine.”

Mr. Tabor grabbed his cane from off the kitchen chair and a jacket from a hook on the wall beside the back door and tagged along with J.T., Miss Patsy, Elizabeth, and Dinky as they filed happily out the door one by one.

“C’mere a minute,” J.T. said as he walked towards the left side of the porch, “I want to show you guys something. Look down there. That’s my tree farm.” He smiled with pride.

“Wow, look how straight all those rows are, Uncle J.T.,” Elizabeth exclaimed.

“What a beautiful view of it from up here,” said Miss Patsy. She was amazed at how much they could see. There were perfectly straight rows of partially snow-covered evergreens grouped by height, laid out below like straight stitches across a quilt. She was so proud of J.T., too. He had put a lot of years and hard work into this venture.

“Dink, look, Dink! There goes your reindeer!” J.T. was stunned to spy a large buck with a huge rack of antlers among his trees down below.

“Wow, a reindeer,” exclaimed Dinky with unbridled excitement, “on a real Chrissum tree farm!”

“Yeah, imagine that,” J.T. said with relief. He was so glad the kids and Miss Patsy weren’t disappointed. Patsy smiled at him. What a perfect day!

“Come back and visit again real soon,” yelled Mr. Tabor, waving from the front porch as he looked down on J.T.’s big black truck with the nice fir tree thrown into the bed. They had cut down the prettiest one at Mr. Tabor’s insistence.

Earlier, as Dinky and J.T. climbed the back hill to get to it, Dinky had asked, “Is this the way to heaven, Uncle J.T.?” because they were going up so high. J.T. said he wished it was that easy and laughed a little.

“’Cause of Jesus dying on that ole cross for our sins, and coming back to life agin, it ain’t hard at all. That’s what Mama and Miss Patsy tell me.” Dinky never looked up but kept climbing.

“Yeah, that’s what I hear,” J.T. answered him thoughtfully.

“What a wonderful afternoon,” Miss Patsy said joyfully as they turned back onto the old logging road.

“I am so glad we got to bless Mr. Tabor today.” Elizabeth was somewhat smug.

“I think he was the one that blessed us, Elizabeth. He gave us the best Chrissum tree ever.”

“He sure did,” said J.T.

“Yes, he certainly did.” Miss Patsy wiped a tear from her eye, thinking about how much she loved Mr. Tabor. He was such a dear friend to her. She thought of him as family.

“Yep, Dinky, I guess you’re right. He sure did,” Elizabeth agreed. “But, wait, we didn’t get to drink our hot chocolate!”

“Well, let’s have some when we get Miss Patsy’s car out of that ditch,” her uncle replied as he drove back through the tracks in the snow his truck made earlier.

Anything to keep her with us longer. J.T. smiled.

Miss Patsy smiled at him sweetly as she sang with Elizabeth.

Deck the halls with boughs of holly,

Fa la la la la la la la!