Eight

“Bundle up for the sleigh ride!” Judge Ragsdale called from the bottom of the stairway.

Everyone had just eaten a delicious supper of potato soup, hot biscuits, butter, and sourwood honey. The kids and adults gathered around the judge.

“You’re taking the children for a sleigh ride? Oh, how delightful,” Madison said. “I’m sure they will enjoy that.”

“Not just the children,” Ragsdale replied. “Everyone is going.”

“How large is the sleigh?” T. J. asked.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. We have two of them,” the judge said. “The grown-ups will go in one and the children in the other. There are plenty of lap robes to keep you warm, but you will be more comfortable if you are bundled up besides.”

Once again, T. J. put on his bright yellow coat. Madison’s coat was much like his, except that hers was lavender in color.

Everybody waited in the foyer until the two sleighs were brought around, then the judge announced that they were ready. “As you pass under the door,” he said, “please look up.”

The Andersons were the first ones out and, looking up, Jim saw the mistletoe. He laughed, then leaned down to kiss Laura.

Each subsequent couple kissed as they passed under the mistletoe. When it was T. J.’s turn, he looked at Madison and hesitated for just a moment, to see how she was going to react.

“Don’t be shy now,” Judge Ragsdale said. “It’s the rule, you know. You must kiss when you are under the mistletoe.”

“What do you think?” T. J. asked.

“Don’t make a scene, T. J.,” Madison said quietly. “Just do it.”

Madison raised her lips to T. J., and he kissed her briefly before going on outside.

The snow that had fallen earlier in the day had stopped, and the clouds had dissipated to create a clear night. The sky was filled with sparkling, crystal stars, so close that it seemed to T. J. that he could reach out and grab one. The light of the full moon reflected brilliantly off the snow.

The guests climbed into the sleighs, then placed the lap robes over their legs. The lap robes, their heavy clothing, and the close contact made it comfortably warm.

Angus drove the first sleigh; Thomas Duncan, the second.

“All right, Angus, we’re all aboard,” Judge Ragsdale said.

“You folks hold on!” Angus called as he snapped his whip. The team of horses got under way with bells jingling as they trotted up the lane. The sleigh slid easily through the snow, making a quiet whispering whish as it moved.

“Look how bright it is,” Madison said. “It’s almost like daytime.”

“Yes, that’s because of the snow and the stars and the full moon,” T. J. said. He paused, and a puzzled look came over his face. “Wait a minute. That’s funny.”

“What’s funny?”

“Last night when I took the trash out, there was no moon at all. Tonight we have a full moon. How can that be?”

“It was probably covered by a cloud.”

“I suppose so.”

Laura Anderson started singing “Jingle Bells,” and the others in the sleigh joined her. They finished the song with laughter and self-congratulatory applause.

“I’ve never been on a sleigh ride before,” T. J. said. “Have you?”

“No, I haven’t,” Madison answered. “I’m glad the kids didn’t have to wait until they are as old as we are to have this experience.”

T. J. turned in his seat to look at the sleigh behind them. “You think they’re enjoying themselves?” he asked her.

“Are you kidding? I think they’re having the time of their lives.”

“You don’t think they miss their PlayStation or Karaoke?”

“Amazingly enough, I don’t think they miss anything,” Madison said. “For that matter, they aren’t even missing electricity. I think it was a good idea, our coming here like this. We’re giving them a Christmas they will remember for a long time.”

“In more ways than one,” T. J. replied.

“What do you mean?” Then, before he could answer, Madison realized what he meant and added, “Oh.”

The sleigh ride lasted for nearly an hour. They glided over white meadows and slipped along winding roads that were lined on both sides by pine trees, their boughs heavily laden with snow. The initial conversation and boisterous singing ended, to be replaced by a quiet reverence for the beauty of what they were experiencing.

Finally the party returned to Gracehall. Judge Ragsdale hopped down first, then climbed to the top step so he could address the others as they were getting out of the sleighs.

“Folks, take a few minutes to get out of your coats, sweaters, and scarves, then gather in front of the fireplace in the keeping room. We’ll light the Yule log, then have freshly baked cookies, hot cider for the adults, and hot chocolate for the children. This will be the time for the singing of carols and reading of Scripture.”

Following the judge’s announcement, all the guests, including T. J. and Madison, went to their rooms to take off their coats and sweaters.

“We’ve talked about the kids enjoying this,” T. J. said. “But what about you? Are you having a good time, Madison? I mean, under the circumstances.”

Madison nodded. “Yes, I’m having a good time,” she said. “Under the circumstances.”

“I feel a little guilty though,” T. J. said.

“About what?”

“We brought the kids here so we could make this last family Christmas something very special, but we’ve been all but ignoring them since we arrived. They’re eating at a separate table, they rode in a different sleigh, and they’ll be sleeping in a different room tonight. It’s almost as if there is some great plan to keep them and us apart.”

“I know,” Madison said. “But they seem to be enjoying themselves so much with the other children that I’ve been hesitant to interfere.”

“When do you think we should tell them about . .. ?”

“I don’t know.” Madison didn’t want to think about it, let alone talk about it. Her feelings were mixed up now, less clear than they had been a day or two before. She wondered what T. J. was really thinking. “It’s not something I’m looking forward to.”

“Me neither. It’s going to be hard to make them understand. I’m not sure I understand.”

“T. J.,” Madison started. Maybe this was the opening; maybe it wasn’t too late . ..

T. J. interrupted her thought. “But we have to tell them. We can’t just let it happen.”

His words extinguished the little glimmer of hope Madison had just experienced.

“No, we can’t just let it happen.” She offered a silent prayer of desperation.

Sometime during the day, T. J. had begun to hope they could save their marriage. He wondered if they could still work it out. But he could not bring himself to say it. And Madison’s words gave him no indication that she had changed her mind.

So be it. If she was determined to end their relationship, he wouldn’t try to change her mind or keep her against her will. Yet .. .he could barely believe this was happening. In an effort to get his mind off this depressing subject, T. J. broke the silence. “You know what? I’m almost glad the car broke down.”

“What?” she responded. “That’s a strange thing to say.”

“No, think about it, Madison. I mean, these people are really into this history thing. It would have been out of place to drive up in a Mercedes.”

“Oh, yes, I see what you mean. It is rather amazing, isn’t it? I mean the degree of authenticity everyone maintains.” Madison threw herself into the conversation in order to crowd out her own maudlin thoughts. “Do you remember that time we visited the full-scale replica of the Mayflower? How the crew and passengers were so in character that they pretended to know nothing beyond the date they were portraying?”

“Yes. Now that you mention it, we weren’t supposed to ask them anything about the Revolutionary War, or even Plymouth colony. We could ask them about nothing that happened after November 11, 1620. It’s the same here.”

“No, it’s not the same here,” Madison replied. “Those people on board the Mayflower replica were actors performing for the public. The difference is, here everyone is like that—even the guests. Except us, I mean.”

“Judge and Mrs. Ragsdale live here full time. Can you imagine having to keep up their personae all the time?”

“The Amish do,” Madison said.

“Yes, but they’ve had a lifetime of doing it. These people aren’t Amish.”

“No, but that does bring up a wild theory I have.”

“What theory is that?”

“T. J., what if these people aren’t acting? What if it’s real?”

“What do you mean, real? How can it be real?”

“What if there is some little pocket of people who, like the Amish, have resisted change?”

“Are there other groups like the Amish?” T. J. asked.

“I don’t know,” Madison said. “But given how small and remote this particular group is, they could have their own unique society, and the rest of the world would never even know about it.”

“Sounds pretty far-fetched to me. Don’t forget, they put out that slick, four-color brochure. And they took our reservation by voice mail. Whoever these people are, they haven’t entirely turned their backs on technology.”

“Neither have the Amish, when you think about it,” she said. “Authentic Amish products, from toys to dolls to furniture, are advertised on the Internet. You can’t be more modern than the Internet.”

“You might be right,” he agreed.

“I know I’m right,” Madison said. “And as soon as I get back to Nashville, I’m going to pitch Evan the idea of doing a show about these people and this place.”

“Do you really want to do that?” T. J. asked.

“Why not? I think it would make a great show. And it would advertise their business for them.”

“It might also destroy their way of life,” T. J. suggested. “I mean, think about it. You would do your show; other networks would pick up on it. It would go out on the five-thirty newscasts all across the country. Next thing you know, tourists would be coming in here, followed by social workers and anthropologists. These people have found a little piece of paradise. Why take it away from them?”

Before Madison could respond, there was a knock on the door. When T. J. opened it, Ragsdale was standing there with a broad smile on his face.

“We are starting the Christmas Eve festivities now. Come on down to the keeping room.”

“Thanks, we’ll be right there,” T. J. said.

Except for one flickering candle, the keeping room was dark. It still smelled faintly of cider and cinnamon and fresh-baked cookies. T. J. and Madison picked their way carefully through the shadows, then found a place to sit. The adults as well as the children sat on the floor in a semicircle around the fireplace, wherein lay the log that the men had dragged down from the mountain.

A three-legged stool stood near the fireplace, and on the stool were a basin, a pitcher, and a towel.

Judge Ragsdale stood then and addressed the others.

“As you know, the lighting of the Yule log is one of the most important parts of Christmas. Its light symbolizes the light that the birth of Christ brought to a dark world. Let us pray.”

T. J. looked around to see if the others were going to stand or kneel. When they merely bowed their heads, he did the same.

“Lord, we thank Thee now for light, for the sun by day, and for the moon, the candles, and the lanterns that push away the darkness of the night. We thank Thee for the star that guided the shepherds and the kings to the newborn Christ child. But, most especially, Lord, we thank Thee for the light Christ brought to the world, and we burn this Yule log that its light may be a symbol to us of the gift Thou didst bestow upon us that night. Amen.”

“Amen,” the others repeated.

“And now, Dermott, as you are the oldest male child present, would you assist me in lighting the Yule log?”

Dermott stood and walked over to the little stool. He draped the towel over his arm, then picked up the pitcher and held it. When Judge Ragsdale put his hands over the basin, Dermott poured water over them. Judge Ragsdale washed his hands, then dried them using the towel Dermott provided.

With that done, Dermott went to retrieve the candle. He carried it back to the fireplace where Judge Ragsdale was holding a charred piece of wood.

“This wood is all that is left from last year’s Yule log,” the judge explained. “With it, we shall light the new log, symbolizing the eternity of Christ’s Kingdom.”

The judge held the charred piece into the flame of the candle until it caught, then, when it was blazing well, he held it under the bark of the new log. Within a few seconds, a flame curled up around the log. The flame spread wide until soon the entire log was blazing, snapping, and popping as little trapped pockets of gas were ignited.

Sylvia and Cynthia brought in cookies, cider, and hot chocolate. Then the judge looked over at Madison.

“And now, Mrs. Carmichael, if you would please, read to us from the second chapter of St. Luke.”

Madison did not have a Bible with her, and she felt a moment of awkwardness as she stood, but, smiling, the judge held one out to her. Thanking him, she cleared her throat, then turned to face the others.

As she stood before this small group of people, about to read from the Bible, she felt a sense of awe and responsibility unlike anything she had ever experienced. She began to read in a clear voice.

“And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus, that all the world should be taxed.

“( And this taxing was first made when Cyrenius was governor of Syria.)

“And all went to be taxed, every one into his own city.”

Madison felt the words filling up her soul. It was as if she was experiencing an answer to her hasty, almost thoughtless prayer. She read on.

“And Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judea, unto the city of David, which is called Bethlehem; (because he was of the house and lineage of David) be taxed with Mary his espoused wife, being great with child.

“And so it was, that, while they were there, the days were accomplished that she should be delivered.

“And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn.”

The children, especially, listened to the familiar story with eager innocence, drinking in every word. They gave Madison a sense of purpose and responsibility.

“And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. “And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid.”

Madison shivered involuntarily at the thought of angels from heaven. . . .

“And the angel said unto them, ‘Fear not; for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.

“For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.

“And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.

“And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.”

Finishing the reading, Madison looked up at the rapt faces of her audience. “The holy Gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ, according to St. Luke,” she said.

Only T. J., Timmy, and Christine responded. “Glory to you, Lord Christ.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Carmichael,” Sylvia said. “You read beautifully. Now, what do you say to some carols?”

“Mama, can the first one be ‘Silent Night’?” Emma asked.

“‘ Silent Night’ it will be.”