Angie woke up to a very chilly morning, but there was a fire roaring in the fireplace and the smell of coffee coming from the kitchen. It was Christmas morning and she was excited to bring her gifts downstairs and set them under the small fir tree that her father brought home. She was fascinated with the handmade ornaments that hung on the thin branches. They represented years of memories, each one added one year at a time. This year, her mother added a new ornament that she crocheted from leftover yarn, a little white snowman with a blue top hat. Among the ornaments hung older ones that came from her grandparents, saved carefully by her mother. Each one had been wrapped in leftover paper from presents under the tree, and then stored in the old wooden chest in their parents’ room. Angie loved to look at each one of them, imagining that each ornament had its own story to tell.
Billy was already in the kitchen, begging his parents to let him open his present. Angie went into the kitchen and sat down at the table.
“Merry Christmas,” her father smiled at her as he sipped his coffee.
“Merry Christmas, daddy!” Angie answered, “Can we open our present now?”
Billy looked hopefully at his daddy and nodded his head in agreement.
“We’re waiting for the McKennas” mother said as she sat down at the table, placing some freshly scrambled eggs before her family. “You know they join us every Christmas. Elma is bringing the dessert this year.”
“But what about your apple pie?” Angie whined, “We always have your apple pie for Christmas. Elma’s apple pie just isn’t as good as yours.”
“That’s not very nice of you, Angie,” her mother admonished her. “Elma works very hard on her pies, and would be very hurt if she heard you say that.”
“But it’s the truth, my dear,” William chuckled and winked at his wife.
“Well, we’ll eat it and enjoy it,” Faith smiled.
“Yes, dear,” William said as he passed the eggs to his wife.
The hour between breakfast and the McKennas’ arrival seemed like an eternity to the children, patience not being one of their best virtues. Billy and Angie ran to the door to let the Mckennas come in from the cold, their arms holding gifts for under the tree.
Faith brought out fresh coffee for her friends and a few cinnamon rolls she had made especially for the holiday.
“This is a special treat,” Elma said as she seated herself comfortably in front of the fire.
George smiled broadly as he carefully placed their presents among the others, being sure to let Billy spot which gift was his.
“Can we open gifts now?” Billy begged his father.
“Yes, yes, yes,” William smiled wearily and finding a seat in the living room. “We can open our gifts now.”
Billy was excited to receive his new coat from his parents, and the paper snowflakes his sister had made for him to hang in his window. But he loved the wooden carved horse that the McKennas gave him the most.
Angie waited anxiously for her parents to open her mosaic that she had made them, and her chest swelled up with pride when her mother and father ranted on and on about how beautiful it was.
“We’ll hang it right here in the living room so everyone can enjoy it,” her mother smiled.
Angie was so pleased with her gifts for her family, she had forgotten all about the ones that were sitting in front of her.
“Aren’t you going to open your gifts, dear?” her mother asked Angie.
Angie was startled at the thought that she hadn’t even opened her gifts yet, and then eagerly began to unwrap the first gift. The present was from her parents and held a modest, but pretty dress for school. Angie was excited and grateful to have a new dress to show off when she returned to school on Monday. She gave Billy a hug for the handmade sugar cookie he had decorated for her, but when she opened the McKennas’ gift, she grew very quiet. Inside the long slender box was a crocheting needle. It was beautiful, made of smooth metal that would last a lifetime. She suddenly set it down, said thank you to the McKennas and headed back upstairs to her bedroom, leaving her dress and cookie behind.
“What’s wrong?” George asked William.
“I’m afraid she’s being punished,” William explained to George, “I had to take her yarn away from her a short while back. She got in a fight with Pearl Hubbard.”
“Pearl Hubbard!” George remarked, “Well, if she got into it with Pearl Hubbard, I hope Angie got the upper hand in that fight.”
“She may have gotten the upper hand,” Faith smiled, “but she also got herself in a lot of trouble.”
“She has to learn not to hit people,” William explained, “and how to behave herself, no matter how others act.”
“I don’t think you fully understand how much Angie has taken off of that Hubbard girl. I’ve seen it, and I wanted to hit the little brat myself!” George added, “The girl needs a good spanking she does.”
“Well, that’s not how we handle things,” William smiled, “but I have seen a lot of what goes on with Pearl and her mother, myself. Maybe I am being too harsh on Angie. I just want to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
“I think she’s learned her lesson, dear,” Faith said gently.
William sat for a while, not saying a word, thoughts running through his mind. The room was oddly quiet, everyone watching William’s face, except for Billy who was happily playing with his new wooden horse.
Without a word, William slowly rose to his feet and went up the stairs. Faith and the McKennas smiled to each other, knowing that this would be a better Christmas for Angie than she realized.
After making a short stop to his bedroom, William entered Angie’s room, his arms holding the unfinished blanket and loose skeins of yarn. Sitting on her bed, Angie’s eyes focused only on the blanket. Then she looked up into her father’s eyes and was surprised to see a kindness she had not witnessed in his face for several months.
He sat down on the bed next to her, laying down the yarn and blanket in front of her, and said “I believe this is yours.”
Angie didn’t say anything. The surprise on her face said it all.
“Merry Christmas, Honey Bee,” he smiled, gave her a kiss on her forehead, and then left the room.
Angie stared at her blanket. Her punishment was over. She would be able to have it finished in time for the fair in the summer. But why didn’t it give her pleasure to have it back? She felt an overwhelming sadness come over her, along with guilt and displeasure. It brought back unpleasant thoughts of Pearl, of the disapproval from her mother and father and the shame she had brought upon herself. She rose from her bed, leaving the unfinished blanket where her father had placed it, went downstairs and joined the others for Christmas dinner.
As she retired that night, she thought about her blanket. I need to work on it again, but not now. I don’t want to work on it now. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe next week.
The Accident