Angels (11 page)

“Look at that fancy basket!” she said. “Y’all are surely ready for Thanksgiving.”

“But we can’t keep it,” I protested.

“Why ever not?” she asked.

“Well, it ought to go to somebody who can’t afford to buy a turkey,” I said. “We’re not
that
poor. I can’t think who sent it—the county, or the Presbyterian Church—what were they
thinking
?”

“That’s no charity basket,” Mary Louise said, poking at the bow. “Look, here’s the card. It’s from a gourmet shop in Wilmington, and it’s a gift from Coleman’s fairy godfather, Mr. Sherrill.”

I felt my face get hot, and I knew I must have turned red as a beet.

Ida smiled at me. “Mama always told you to look before you leap,” she said.

She’s right: Mama did, and I am sometimes too hasty. But I’m worried that other people who saw it on the porch will think it
was
a charity basket. I’d hate that. And what in the world are we going to do with all that food? I hadn’t realized that the children were listening to our conversation until Coleman piped up.

“I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t you keep it if it’s a charity basket?”

Drat. I’d rather not have this conversation. I could see Ida and Mary Louise weren’t going to help me out, either.

“I think there are other people who need the food more than we do,” I said.

“But it’s all right to keep it if Mr. Sherrill sent it and not the church? You don’t reckon we should give the basket to poor people?” she asked.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to hurt Mr. Sherrill’s feelings, but I feel we shouldn’t take gifts intended for the needy or the poor—” I broke off. This wasn’t going well. I was so rattled I didn’t even tell her not to say “reckon’.”

“You say ‘charity’ like it’s bad. But the Bible says ‘faith, hope, charity, but the greatest of these is charity.’ Can charity ever be bad?”

She was like a terrier with a bone: she wouldn’t let go. And she had me. I didn’t want to keep the basket when I thought it was a charity gift, because of pride, a great sin. “No, of course not, Coleman. I’m sorry I said that.”

Ida saw my back was against the wall and finally rescued me. “Let’s talk about what we’re going to do with all that food,” she said.

Ever since Dinah has been old enough to enjoy Thanksgiving, we’ve eaten our turkey with Mary Louise and her family, or the Guthries. But this year, with two children in the house, we’d planned to prepare our own meal. With all this food, we should return the hospitality we’ve accepted so often. But who would come? Not Mary Louise—she’ll want to have all her family around her, and so will the Guthries. I was trying to think of possible guests when Dinah made a suggestion.

“Let’s ask the Mexican children from our class and their folks—the Garcia family. We could have real Thanksgiving food—I don’t know if they ever had it ‘cause they fix their turkey different. Maria told me they cook turkey with chocolate—can you b’lieve it? Ugh! Sounds worse than sweet corn bread. I don’t think they have Thanksgiving in Mexico,” she said.

Coleman clapped her hands. “Yes, let’s us do that!”

Ida nodded approval. “I think that’s a very good idea,” she said. “I’ve always wanted to research the first Thanksgiving dinner, and to come up with some new and authentic recipes—dishes the Pilgrims might have eaten. This will be the perfect opportunity.”

“I wish I could come,” Mary Louise said.

Ida laughed. “Well, you can share our leftovers. We’ll have so much food, we can have several meals. Come to lunch or dinner—Friday or Saturday or Sunday of Thanksgiving weekend. Whenever you like.”

I was thinking about the Garcia family, five of them—the three children and their parents—and four of us, nine in total. Our dining room table seats only eight, and I don’t know how much of the good china is left. How in the world will we cope?

Aunt Polly was already worrying about how to seat nine people at a table for eight when she went into a real tizzy ‘cause when Miss Ida called to invite the Garcia family, she found out there are two little children not yet in school, and a granny. So now we’re twelve for Thanksgivin’ dinner. I think it will be wonderful, like having a big family.

It was hard to get the two of ‘em alone, or to make ‘em think about anything but Thanksgiving, what with Aunt Polly frettin’ and Miss Ida plannin’ new recipes. Finally, Coleman went down to the produce stand to talk to Sarah Ann, who’s helping out because they’re so busy—I didn’t think there’d be a lot to sell in November, but they have all kinds of preserves and canned and frozen food, and gourds, and bunches of corn to hang on the door; peanuts, raw, boiled, and roasted; and pumpkins and potatoes and squash and I don’t know what all. While she was gone, I told Aunt Polly and Miss Ida about Coleman’s birthday, and how she wanted two parties. They thought the school party would be fun and easy.

“You get out of school for Christmas on the 20th of December, don’t you?” Aunt Polly asked.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Well, that’s when we’ll have Coleman’s party at school, right on her birthday,” Miss Ida said.

“There’s already a lot of stuff goin’ on at school that day,” I said. “I don’t know how her party would fit in.”

“I’ll talk to Mrs. O’Quinn and see what she thinks,” Aunt Polly said.

Then I told them about how Coleman wanted her home party, and her angels bein’ invited and all. Did they think we could do two parties in one day? They didn’t say much, but I can tell Aunt Polly is stewing over the angels, and Miss Ida said she’d discuss it with Aunt Mary Louise, a sure sign she’s worrying, too. But they thought it would be all right to do both parties the same day—it was Coleman’s first real birthday, and they want it to be ‘zackly what she wants.

Aunt Polly called Miz O’Quinn, and we’re goin’ to combine the last-day-of-school-before-Christmas party with Coleman’s birthday. I can’t wait. I could hardly go to sleep, I was that excited, but I fell asleep countin’ my blessings like the Christmas song. And I dreamed of sugarplums dancing—my sugarplums were girl gumdrops and boy lollipops. And I dreamed about a live nativity scene outside our church, and I touched a lamb. In my dream, the lamb felt just like Peter.

The day after we invited the Garcia family for Thanksgiving dinner, Miss Ida spent a morning at the library lookin’ at books on the first Thanksgiving in 1621. When she came home, she told us the 1621 dinner wasn’t much like ours. The Pilgrims didn’t have a lot of the food we usually eat at Thanksgiving, so we’re going to fix some substitutes. I don’t know if I’m going to like ‘em as much as my old favorites. She wrote down for me the menu she has in mind:

Miss Ida says the Pilgrims would have served venison for sure, and some kind of bird, prob’ly turkey. They didn’t have white or sweet potatoes or rice, or white flour or sugar. They were too far north for pecans, and they had cranberries, but not cranberry sauce. She said they probably had honey and maple syrup.

She decided we couldn’t be completely Pilgrim—they didn’t even have oil and vinegar for the salad—but the meal will be
mostly
like what the Pilgrims had. We’ll be eating food we never had: parsnips and Jerusalem artichokes and cooked watercress. (The only watercress I ever had was in that sandwich at Miss Rena’s. I can’t imagine it cooked.) Everything sounds mighty strange.

When Miss Ida called Miss Rena to discuss the food we were havin’—like where to get some of it—Miss Rena was so int’rested, Miss Ida invited her to dinner. Miss Rena said she’d love to come, but only if she could help with the cooking. Miss Ida was tickled to have her help—she’d given Molly and Elaine time off to help cook in their own homes—and she said I could have Thanksgiving off from cooking, but I can help the day before, and Coleman and I will set and decorate the table.

Then Aunt Mary Louise called and begged Miss Ida to have our dinner at night, so she and Freddy can come ‘cause they both want to try the new food and be with the Garcias, and natur’lly Miss Ida agreed. So we’re fifteen for Thanksgiving dinner, and we’re eatin’ it at night: people are comin’ at seven o’clock. Aunt Polly says Coleman and I can watch the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade on television in the morning and have sandwiches for lunch, and then we have to take a nap. (It’s sixteen for dinner; Coleman just invited Mr. Sherrill, and he’s comin’!) I can hardly wait!

As it turns out, we’ll be eight adults at the dining room table, and the eight children will sit at the kitchen table; we’re borrowing high chairs from the church for the babies. There’ll be a big mixture of dish patterns, but I don’t suppose anyone will care except me. I’ll mend and wash and iron two of our old tablecloths and all the napkins I can find.

I don’t know about some of this strange-sounding food Ida’s serving. I’m worried it won’t be tasty, even if Ida
is
the best cook in North Carolina. You can’t make bricks without straw. But the Lord knows best, and I will be truly thankful no matter how much I dislike the food.

Coleman says we’re thinkin’ too much about food and not enough about bein’ thankful. She wants us to do somethin’ thankful right before we say the blessing. We talked it over with Aunt Polly and Miss Ida, and we’re goin’ to sing hymns of thanksgiving right before we sit down to dinner. Anybody who wants to can join in—we’ll pass out word sheets—and Miss Ida says Aunt Mary Louise will lead the singing and play our ol’ piano. Miss Ida is goin’ to have it tuned for the first time I can remember.

It was a very successful celebration. Everyone sang “Come Ye Thankful People, Come,” “All Things Bright and Beautiful,” “For the Beauty of the Earth,” and “Praise God from Whom All Blessings Flow.” Then we sat down to this extraordinary meal, and Dinah said the blessing. Mrs. Garcia had brought several dishes none of us had ever tasted, including that turkey with chocolate Dinah mentioned. I wrote down what it’s called: mole poblano. (Mrs. Garcia said they had both turkey and chocolate in America before Columbus came, so it’s a very old recipe and fits right in with our olden-days theme.) She also brought squash stuffed with corn in a tomato sauce—which should have been familiar, but it had strange seasonings—and ceviche, which is raw fish. I didn’t think I’d like raw fish or turkey with chocolate, but they were both delicious. So was everything Ida and Rena and Dinah cooked, even the peculiar vegetables.

To my mind, it’s much homier to have the traditional foods we had when we were children—that Ida cooked for her children, and now her grandchildren. But Ida had a wonderful time researching and preparing new foods, and I am thankful she did. I just hope she doesn’t do it again for Christmas.

Everybody got along real well at our Thanksgiving party, and it was fun havin’ two little ones to play with. (They made a big mess, spillin’ and throwin’ food on the floor, but Peter cleaned it all up before Miss Ida saw it. And then Peter threw up ‘cause he ate so much, but Coleman got him outside in time, so no one knew.) Coleman’s idea about the Thanksgiving songs was good, ‘cause we all felt real thankful durin’ and after the singing.

The food was interesting, but on Christmas I hope we’ll have all our old favorites that I love so. All the things we’ve always had, and ‘specially no venison. I don’t like eatin’ a deer—the babies are so cute, and they make me think of Santa’s reindeer. I would never eat Rudolph! But having company is grand, and so is sharing, and bein’ thankful.

Most of the Friday and Saturday after Thanksgiving, Dinah and Coleman worked on a December calendar. It was a school project—planned, I think, to give the children something to do over the four-day weekend—but it will be useful. This will be the busiest Christmas we’ve ever had, with Coleman’s birthday parties, and two youngsters in the house to watch over, plan for, and entertain. I don’t know how we’re going to get everything done, and I worry that the girls will do too much and make themselves sick. I’d worry about Ida, too, but thank goodness Molly and Elaine Byrd, who assisted her in November, are working through Christmas Eve. Ida will need all the help she can get to satisfy clients, do Coleman’s birthday parties, and prepare family meals, and of course, she’ll go to all the holiday programs and services and entertainment with me and the children. I hope it doesn’t get cold till after Christmas. Nothing will be much fun—especially the party here on the twentieth—if the house is frigid.

One of the best things about the girls’ calendar is its size—it’s huge, with lots of space to write in, so we can scribble in the times of events, and if we’re going anywhere else that night. The girls put in everything they knew about, and made little sketches. It’s attractive, as well as useful.

Here’s where we are so far:

December 5: Lighting of the big tree outside the courthouse in the early evening, with a sketch of a tiny green Christmas tree dotted with color for its lights. We’re going to Mary Louise’s for supper afterward. She’s making chicken pie, one of her specialties, and there’ll be a crowd of her family there. She said not to bring anything, but Ida is taking two cakes: chocolate fudge and caramel. She’d never go empty-handed to Mary Louise’s, and there’ll be a bunch of hungry Byrds coming home from college for the Christmas break.

December 7–10: The Christmas Bazaar at the community center. One lady from each of the churches is on the committee. I didn’t volunteer, because they’ll sell mostly knitted, crocheted, embroidered, and hand-sewn items, like baby dresses, and I’m already up to my ears sewing for clients, family, and friends. But over the last year, whenever I’ve had a few minutes, I’ve made tiny rag dolls—some to play with, and some to hang on Christmas trees—as my contribution. They’ll also have a cake stall with cakes, cookies, and homemade candy—fudge, peanut brittle, meringues, and I don’t know what all. I’m sure Ida will send something to that booth. They’ll sell Christmas trees, and homemade decorations, and wreaths, and there’s always a huge white-elephant booth. I had to explain to Coleman what it was. That booth is a town joke—it sells some of the same ugly things every year. (The girls illustrated the event with a picture of a tiny elephant!)

Our produce stand is busy, too, but we’re trying not to compete with the bazaar. We’re selling frozen and canned foods, and winter vegetables—yams, sweet potatoes, turnips, turnip greens, and collards. Pecans and peanuts. Dried food, too, like black-eyed peas, popcorn, bird food, and Freddy-designed birdhouses and bird feeders. A lot of Rena Dorman’s candles and soaps. Baskets of pinecones and sweet gum balls, some natural and some painted gold and silver. Anything else anyone can think of that folks might need or want for Christmas.

December 12: Band concert at the high school, with songs from the glee club, organized by the high school faculty. There’ll be sing-alongs of favorites like “Jingle Bells.” We’ll eat supper at home before we go, because it doesn’t start till seven thirty. Ida has been freezing vegetable soup all summer and fall to sell at the stand, and she saved plenty for us. Homemade soup will make a good light supper, or a tray meal to eat while watching Christmas programs or movies. (The illustration is a trombone.)

December 14: Coleman and Dinah’s school pageant is from six to eight; the theme for the second grade’s scene is “Let It Snow.” We’ll have supper at home afterward, to help calm the girls down enough to sleep. (This picture is of a snowflake.)

December 16: Carol festival at Mary Louise’s church. Open house in the church hall afterward, with sandwiches and cookies and coffee and hot chocolate. (A figure in a choir robe is the illustration.)

December 18: Blessing of the Animals at the Presbyterian Church. Therein lies a tale. I never thought we’d see such a thing in our town. (The illustration is a puppy.)

December 20: Coleman’s birthday. School for the girls lets out today, with Coleman’s class party the last event of the day. Then she and Dinah will come home and rest up for the
BIG
party that night. (Illustration: a cake with candles.)

December 23: The dance at the community center for high school and home-from-college students. (Sarah Ann and her friends are in charge—I’m sure it will be well done.) That night our little family will stay at home and go to bed early; we’ll all be exhausted.

Christmas Eve: Services at all the churches.

Christmas Day: Services at all the churches. Christmas dinner at our house is at one o’clock after church. Mr. Sherrill and Rena Dorman are our only guests, unless we hear of someone who’ll be alone. Six at one table will seem strange after our big Thanksgiving dinner, but we’ll have had a crowd on the 20th and will probably be ready for a quieter time.

Of course, we put the church services for the Sundays of Advent on the calendar. Advent is one of the most beautiful times of the year—the time we prepare for the coming of the Lord. I love the Advent services, with the color purple in the church, and the progressive lighting of the Advent wreath each of the four Sundays before Christmas.

I’ve made the girls Christmas dresses. Dinah’s are red, and Coleman’s are green. They each have a velvet dress for church and parties, and a corduroy dress for school and such. I’m also making party clothes for clients—have been for weeks. In between, I sew for Christmas for Ida and the girls and help Dinah and Coleman make their gifts. Busy!

Dinah and Coleman would like to go out to the woods and chop down a Christmas tree—they’ve read about doing that in storybooks. But nothing grows around here that’s suitable for a Christmas tree, even if the four of us were able to chop it down and carry it home. We plan to do what everyone else does and buy our tree at the bazaar. If we can’t find the perfect tree, we’ll ask Mary Louise to take us over to Valley Stream in the next county where they bring in a lot of trees to sell.

But we will go out in the woods and get pine boughs and pinecones and anything with berries that looks Christmassy. We’ll cut magnolia leaves and seed pods, too. If we can’t carry enough greens and such to suit the girls (they want to decorate the whole house, banisters, their room, everything), we’ll go out a second time and get some more. I’d like to postpone buying the tree until close to Christmas so it doesn’t dry out, but the girls want to buy it way ahead of time. I expect we’ll do it their way. I just hope it won’t be brown or bald for Coleman’s party.

I wish we knew everyone who’s coming. It’s the four of us; Mary Louise; Freddy; Sarah Ann; Granny; Jenny Byrd, who was Coleman’s nurse; Laura Byrd, who brought her home; Mr. Sherrill; Rena Dorman; and the three women we don’t know from Coleman’s early years—fifteen in all. It seems odd to have strangers at a family celebration. But I think of all the stories about a stranger coming to the door at Christmas and being turned away, only to learn that it was our Savior; and I know that entertaining these women who were so good to Coleman is God’s will. I pray that I will welcome them with all my heart.

I heard Coleman talkin’ to Mr. Sherrill on the phone—she’s got surprises cooking, and she won’t tell me a thing! But I learned something important. She told Mr. Sherrill the best present she ever had was bein’ able to give
us
presents—she never had money to give anybody a present before in her whole life. I think he was warning her about spendin’ money, ‘cause I heard her say, “Yessir, I know I’ll need every penny to go to college, and with God’s help, I’ll find the money somehow, but right now I need to give presents. The Lord says it’s better to give than receive, and this Christmas, I need to give.”

I told Miss Ida and Aunt Polly what she said about giving presents, and never havin’ been able to give any, and they put their heads together and came up with the idea of goody bags for everyone in our class (twenty-four children, includin’ me and Coleman, and Miz O’Quinn makes twenty-five) as Christmas presents from Coleman at her birthday party.

Aunt Polly bought some little white paper bags downtown, and red ribbon to make bows on the handles, and I printed a name in red crayon on each bag. Everybody will get a homemade gingerbread boy or girl, and a candied apple, and a popcorn ball to hang on the tree (or eat). I’m helping fix everything and writin’ cards that say “Merry Christmas from Coleman.” The goody bags are a surprise for Coleman. She’ll be floating on clouds.

Miss Ida was disappointed when I told her Coleman wanted refreshments just like everybody else has at her school party, because Miss Ida wanted to do something special. But Coleman says if we do anything but what the others do, it will look like we’re puttin’ on airs, and maybe make somebody feel bad that they can’t have as nice a party as ours. (I think the goody bags will be all right with her, ‘cause everything’s homemade.) Coleman wants cupcakes—hers will have a candle on it—and drinks, just like other children in our grade have had. I know Miss Ida wants to bake and decorate a big fancy cake, but she’s savin’ her special dishes for the party at home. So Coleman is gettin’ her cupcakes, but they’ll have white frostin’ and red decorations. We’ll have cranberry punch to drink and salted pecans to break the sweetness. One of the big Byrd boys is comin’ in a Santa Claus suit to help pass the food, and to give out the little gift bags and the “Secret Santa” gifts.

I never heard of Secret Santa till now. This is how it is: Miz O’Quinn had us draw names for presents, and each of us is a “Secret Santa” for the person whose name we drew. You have to make the present yourself, and you can’t spend more than a dollar for the stuff you make it with. Miz O’Quinn gave us some ideas for gifts: a tree ornament, a bookmark, a full-year calendar like we did for December, a dried flower and seed pod arrangement to put in a vase, a seashell picture (some of the kids go to the beach a lot), or a ‘craft’ thing like a corn-dolly or a decorated gourd.

Coleman drew Maria Garcia’s name. At Thanksgiving, Maria told us she has a big orange cat she loves—the cat’s named Sophia after the Queen of Spain. (Sophia and Maria Garcia! That’s so funny!) So Coleman decided to make a catnip mouse for Sophia as Maria’s present. Coleman had read about catnip mice, but she didn’t know where to get the catnip, so she called Miss Rena to ask if she knew of a store that carries it. Turns out Miss Rena has lots of dried catnip put by for her cat, Drusilla, and she’ll give Coleman all she wants, if Coleman will make a catnip mouse for Drusilla for Christmas. Coleman was thrilled, and she’s already made four mice, because Aunt Mary Louise wanted one for Granny’s cat, Penny, and Sarah Ann wanted one for her college roommate’s cat.

Then Sarah Ann decided they’re so cute she wants us to sell ‘em at the produce stand, so I reckon Coleman will be makin’ mice right up till Christmas. She’s usin’ scraps from the scrap bag, and every mouse is different. The one for Maria is the best. Coleman made it with leftover green corduroy from her Christmas dress. She bought some white shoelaces gone yellowish with age at the shoe store, and dyed one green for the mouse’s tail, and she embroidered eyes and whiskers and “Sophia” on its back. I know Maria and Sophia will love it.

We’re closin’ the produce stand for January, February, and most of March, ‘cause hardly anybody will drive by, and there’s nothin’ much to sell. But that’s a long way off, and right now we’re so busy, my head’s spinning. We got to thinkin’ about other pet presents to give and to sell, and Sarah Ann bought little bells to put on dog and cat collars. Until it runs out, we’re using scraps from the red cloth we used for our library slipcovers—it’s plenty tough—for the collars. I made a bell collar for Jessica Guthrie’s poodle, Louie (we think Louie is Peter’s daddy). I’m Jessica’s Secret Santa, and I don’t like her much—she’s too prissy. But Louie is almost family, so I don’t mind givin’
him
a present.

Coleman’s heard from the ladies she calls her angels, and Miss Laura Byrd, who fetched her home from New Orleans. They’re
all
comin’ to her party, and Mr. Sherrill made reservations for ‘em at the motel down the road toward Wilmington. He’s called ‘em all, too, and he’s talked to Miss Ida and Aunt Polly about ‘em, but they haven’t told me much. Secrets! Miss Ida hasn’t even told me what we’re cookin’ for Coleman’s night party, or Christmas Eve or Christmas dinner. More secrets! But I have the feelin’ that the dinner for Coleman’s party will be ‘specially good, what with folks comin’ from so far away, and bein’ strangers and all. Anyway, we’re much obliged to those ladies, and I heard Miss Ida tell Aunt Polly nothin’s too good for them, and she’s grateful for a chance to thank ‘em. Me, too.

Miss Seaman went home to New Jersey for a weekend in early November and came back with a big diamond engagement ring. She’s said to be a changed person—really nice. (I’ll believe it when I see it.) Anyway, she volunteered to take over the Christmas pageant at the children’s school. She sent Coleman and Dinah a program for the Christmas show at Radio City Music Hall, which has everything in it from Santa’s workshop to the manger scene in Bethlehem. She plans to model the school program along the same lines, with all the classes participating, as they do at the Fall Festival. They’ll start it at six, and the smallest children will do the nativity scene—the finale—at about eight, so everyone gets to bed early.

Miss Seaman wants to use live animals in the nativity scene, and everyone is trying to help out, but there aren’t too many nativity animals in Slocumb County. (Miss Seaman says they have camels and a donkey and sheep in Radio City Music Hall.) I think Rena Dorman is lending a goat, but I don’t know what else Miss Seaman’s turned up. No camels, that’s for sure.